


BMFM: The FMBH Tangents

by StarlitSky



Series: Follow Me Back Home [2]
Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: 90s Series, Continuation, Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, One-Shots, Romance, Sequel, Side Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of side-stories that take place during, after, and before Follow Me Back Home. Like all my tangents, content ranges from touching to absurd. Happy reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left To His Own Devices

**Author's Note:**

> Reading Follow Me Back Home before reading any of this is advised to avoid spoilers...and to make any sense of things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When left alone for the day, Vinnie decides to amuse himself in Charley's bathroom. Takes place sometime between later chapters of FMBH. Rating is...I have no idea. It's rated 'Vinnie.'

Charley was gone for the day and Vector was taking a nap, and so that could only mean one thing: Vinnie was alone--and bored. He roamed the small apartment for a while, poking around in the kitchen for snacks and digging through the living room for something to occupy himself with. He found a small bag of chips to munch on, but he decided to leave the TV and radio off--the noise might wake his baby son. And people said he wasn't responsible.

Belching quietly, he tossed the empty chip bag away and started brushing crumbs off his hands, then paused and sniffed his palms. His hands smelled greasy...and the rest of him didn't smell so good either. When was the last time he had washed up? If he had to stop and think about it first...yeah, he was probably about due for a shower.

Humming to himself, he headed down the hall and into the bathroom, where he shed his jeans and the new boxers Charley had picked up for him before getting into the shower. Without Charley around to throw things at him until he stopped, he sang as much as he pleased while he soaped up from head to toe. Charley sure kept a lot of different bottles on the shower shelves. He had no idea which did what, so he made sure to grab the bar of soap--she had at least three out--that had the least amount of fragrance. He wanted to smell clean, not like a field of posies.

When he had the last of the suds rinsed out of his fur, he stepped out onto the cool tile of the floor and grabbed the nearest towel, fluffing himself dry with it. It was too small to do the job on its own, so he grabbed Charley's hair dryer while he was at it. He also borrowed a hairbrush he found out on the sink to smooth himself down afterward. She wouldn't mind, right? Well, he just wouldn't tell her.

When he was finally finished, he picked what tufts of white fur he could out of the brush before giving up and turning to the mirror above the sink. "And there he is," he declared, as he lifted his arms and flexed his biceps. "Living proof of a Higher Power existing somewhere in the universe, because only divine hands could've sculpted _this_ bod."

He continued to flex and pose in the buff, absently wishing he had an audience right now...and then he happened to notice a plastic container sitting out on the sink. It was dark brown, and for some reason there was a picture of a coconut on the label--along with what looked like a pile of cocoa beans. Puzzled, he picked the container up to study it closer. "Sugar scrub?" he read out loud.

Made with real cacao extract, or so the label said. Vinnie furrowed his brow: wasn't that like chocolate? Sugar, coconut, and chocolate. Sounded like a candy bar in a jar...yum.

Curiosity had him unscrewing the lid and taking a sniff. He felt his eyes light up; yum indeed. This stuff smelled _delicious_. And it looked like sugar granules mixed with a cinnamon glaze or something. And anything that looked and smelled that good had to taste pretty good too, he surmised as he dipped a finger into the gritty mixture.

A second later he was bent over the sink basin, gagging and spitting. "Oh god, I've been poisoned!"

Whimpering and making retching sounds, he fumbled to twist the faucet on and shoved his open mouth under the flow of water for a few seconds. Coughing, he straightened up again and wiped his mouth. How were you supposed to tell food from--whatever that was--around here? "No wonder so many accidents happen in the bathroom on this planet," he grumbled.

He slapped the lid back onto the offending container and pushed it away with a grimace, then scrubbed his hand across his mouth, but that awful taste was still on his tongue. His gaze darted around the sink briefly before resting on Charley's toothbrush.

Would she mind sharing? Well, he wouldn't tell her about that either. Smacking his lips unhappily, he started poking around the sink for a tube of toothpaste. There didn't seem to be one out so, after thinking for a moment, he set the toothbrush down and slid open the top drawer of the sink's cabinet. Let's see, he mused, Tampax, feminine wipes--ack!

He slapped the drawer shut. Uh-uh. _No_.

He was leery of checking anything else, but after hesitating for several moments, he steeled himself and cautiously slid open the next drawer. Frowning, he pulled it open farther. What was all this stuff? Clear boxes full of colorful powders, piles of small brushes, weird little sponge-thingies. Bemused, Vinnie scratched his head. Was this stuff used for painting or something?

His puzzlement grew as he pulled out a slender object with a black point. What did Charley-girl need a pencil in the bathroom for?

Perplexed, he continued to study the glossy item, noting the word 'Maybelline' scrawled along the side in gold lettering--and then his eye fell on the magazine rack tacked to the wall next to the toilet. Ah--of course. Word searches and cross-word puzzles.

He put the pencil back and poked through the rest of the drawers, finding things like wash cloths and toenail clippers, but no toothpaste. Clucking his tongue--which still tasted funny--Vinnie grabbed his boxers and tugged them on as he left the bathroom. He couldn't imagine why, but maybe Charley kept a spare tube in the bedroom or something.

After crossing the hall and opening the top drawer of the dresser, Vinnie quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to find any toothpaste...but he'd stumbled across something much more fun.

Snickering in amusement and delight, he held up a filmy black bra, noting how he was practically seeing right through it. How come he had never seen her wear this before? And what about this? he thought eagerly, as he lifted out a lacy white top that didn't look like it could possibly serve any purpose other than to get his little biker motor running. He was going to have to have a talk with Charley-girl about modeling some of this stuff the second she got home from work.

And how about this? he thought, as he set the white top down and picked up something...that crinkled. Grin fading, he looked at what he was holding and noted that it was vaguely shaped like a little pair of undies--with stretchy panels on the sides, and bunchy elastic around the leg holes, and...

Oh, no. He could not possibly be standing here holding a pair of granny--

"What are you doing?"

Vinnie let out a startled yelp--well, more like a shriek--and spun around, hiding the--whatever they were--behind his back. Charley was standing in the doorway, hand rested on the doorframe and one eyebrow cocked with dry curiosity. Vinnie laughed nervously. "Um, hi. Wasn't expecting you home so soon."

"I have an hour lunch today, so I thought I'd come check up on you two." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What's that you've got?"

Cringing, Vinnie took his hand out from behind his back and held the crinkly bottoms out by his fingertips. " _Please_ tell me these aren't yours."

Charley looked for a moment--and let out a chuckle. "I'm flattered you think my butt is that small," she said, clearly amused. "They're Vector's training pants."

"Oh."

Oh, thank god...

Charley took them from him and returned them to the drawer--and then raised her eyebrows dryly again as she spied the racy articles he had left out. "Any particular reason you decided to go through my things?" she asked.

Vinnie fidgeted sheepishly. "I was, um, looking for the toothpaste."

She turned to face him again, arms folded and lips pursed. "It's in the medicine cabinet above the sink."

"Oh," he said again. "Right."

He started to head for the bathroom again--but then he stopped and turned around. "You know, you should really have a warning sign up somewhere," he muttered. "Something about how just because something in the bathroom smells good enough to eat doesn't mean you should actually eat it."

Suddenly looking like she had figured out what kind of an afternoon he had had, Charley pressed a hand to her mouth as she snorted on laughter. "That's just common sense, Vincent."

She paused, then lowered her hand and started to open her mouth to add something--but Vinnie hastily stepped forward and pressed a finger to her lips. "No cracks," he warned.


	2. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the three Martians at the restaurant, Tamerin rushes to the place that's nearest and dearest in her heart. Takes place during chapter 14 of FMBH. Rated G.

Tamerin felt a little bad about leaving her guests so suddenly, but she just couldn't wait a minute longer. Time was of little consequence to her and her people--once an Imeeran hit age twenty or so, they stopped aging and never looked any different. Everyone had missed their families and loved ones they had been separated from this past year, but would anything have changed during that time? Hardly.

Not so for her. Just a few short months would bring on noticeable changes, so a little over a year...? She knew she would be both thrilled and saddened to see how her wonderful charges had changed in her absence. Thrilled because she loved watching each of them grow up...and saddened because she hadn't been there to see it. No, as interesting as her guests were, she didn't want to wait another second if she could help it, and her feet darted along the black street as she absently dodged around figures racing out of the residential block to meet someone.

Though maybe 'interesting' was underselling them a little, she mused. She had come to find herself fascinated with their Martian visitors--which was a little funny, considering how poorly she had thought of them over the last nineteen years. But perhaps she had been a little unfair; she had only visited a handful of small colonies. The opinions of several small groups of mice and rats didn't necessarily represent the opinions of every being on Mars.

These three, at least, seemed to have a lot of kindness in them. Especially Modo; he had such a sweet, gentle nature she couldn't imagine him thinking badly about anyone, or if he did it probably wouldn't be for very long. Rimfire seemed equally sweet, and from what she had seen, he was super-polite. And Throttle...

Well, she was actually trying not to think too hard or long about the tan-furred Martian. He had just ended a relationship--a concept that was foreign to her, but she had spent enough time on planets like Earth to have learned that it could be a very painful, unpleasant experience. An experience that took more than a little time to get over. Which meant Throttle was someone who needed his space right now...because he probably wouldn't appreciate it if he knew just how attracted she was to him.

It was a feeling that went far deeper than just the physical--not to say there was anything wrong with his physique. No, his physique was fantastic...and Martians were loads more interesting to look at than her fellow Imeerans. Sure, they all came in a wide variety of colors and sizes, but their facial structures really weren't all that different from each other. The people she had hung out with during her investigation on Earth had been a great deal more varied in their appearances, though they were still similar enough to her fellow Imeerans that they didn't strike her as deliciously exotic as a Martian did.

But her attraction definitely went deeper than that. She had already taken several small glances at what lay below the surface...and she had liked what she had seen. But she had made sure not to look any deeper--she knew she would become even more drawn to him if she did. They had only met a short time ago, but she could already tell if she got to know him a little more, spent a little more time with him, it would be extremely easy for her to...

Tamerin hastily pushed the growing thought out of her mind. It was too risky, and she reminded herself to keep her emotions in check when she was around him. It was a resolve that was easy enough to throw in place when she was alone--and even easier to throw out the nearest window the second Throttle was nearby. It was definitely a good idea to put a little distance between them for a little while, and she quickened her pace as she turned a corner.

The orphanage popped into view, a sight that made her heart speed up with happiness and excitement. She absently dropped the bag carrying her things and broke into a run. She couldn't wait to see them all: Michio and sweet little Nena, darling baby Ako and the twins, and...

"Ashlin!"

The slender figure standing outside the door spun around. Her face lit up, and with a happy cry she rushed forward and into Tamerin's waiting arms. For a moment neither of them spoke, instead just clinging to each other, Ashlin sniffling quietly as Tamerin stroked her long hair. Then, blinking back the moisture in her eyes, Tamerin smiled and gripped her shoulders, gently pushing her back so she could look her over. "My, you...didn't grow the least little bit," she noted.

Laughing, Ashlin gave her a playful shove, only to throw her arms around her a second later, resting her head on her breastbone. "I'm so glad you're back," Ashlin whispered.

"Me too," Tamerin murmured, laying her hand on her hair again. "It's wonderful to finally be home again."

She was anxious to get inside and see the others, but...at the same time she was in no hurry to let Ashlin go. A different species and a few short months away from turning twenty--it didn't matter. So far as her heart was concerned, this was her daughter. Her sweet, tender little daughter, with her soft golden brown fur, her starry black eyes, her delicate red antennae. She didn't know anyone who was more kind or more unselfish. And she knew she'd do anything to keep her safe and happy.

Smoothing her dark hair back, she softly kissed her forehead before finally letting go. "So, how's the gang?" Tamerin asked with a smile.

"Why ask me?" Ashlin wondered with a playful laugh. "Go on in and ask them yourself."

Heart speeding up again, Tamerin turned to the open door--just as a creamy-white shape came streaking out. "Tammie!"

Launching himself with those strong legs of his, Michio leaped clear off the ground and wrapped his arms around her neck. His feet hooked around her back, and the momentum behind his small but stocky form suddenly pouncing on her like that made her stumble back a step. She hastily thrust her left foot back to steady herself--only she ended up stomping instead of just stepping, knocking herself off-balance.

Darn that trick foot of hers. The jarring impact caused her knee to buckle, and before she knew it she was sitting on the pavement, with one happy little goat-creature cuddling his head against her shoulder. If he were feline, he would have been purring. "Didja miss me?" Michio asked eagerly.

Smiling softly, Tamerin put her arms around him and petted behind his ears. "Of course I did. I missed all of you."

She made sure not to show any favoritism among the orphans. Everyone knew Ash was special, since she was older and the one in charge when she and wasn't around, but as for the others...

She loved them all, but if she had the chance...she'd adopt Michio in a heartbeat. They were all wonderful in their own way, but the furry creature's knack for getting into mischief but at the same time being so playful and affectionate made him especially endearing to her. But she kept this affection to herself, knowing that it would break his heart if he knew she wanted to take him home but wouldn't.

She just couldn't, and for the same reason she never adopted Ashlin. It was basically the same reason her brother refused to mate. They were both very active on the battlefield, and the chance of getting killed was high. Jayce thought it would be far too risky to find himself a mate, to find that blissful happiness, when it was completely possible one of them could die the next day. 

Tamerin had a different opinion about being mated. She was willing to take that chance, to experience that happiness for herself. She was used to being alone, and she knew she could handle it if she ended up alone again. Her mother had survived for thirty years, after all. But then...there was also a chance that she and whoever she chose would live a very long, wonderful life together. Yes, she was more than willing to take that chance.

But a child was different. It felt too cruel to her to sign that document, to give someone a new home and a new mother, only to end up making them an orphan again. If only this war would end...

She hastily shook her head, pushing the thought away. It was such a waste of time to wish; they needed to keep acting. And today had been the biggest act the colony had seen in a long time--and they all knew it had a risk factor. There would be a window of opportunity for infiltration right now, on up until everyone was equipped with the new scanners. They all knew this, but everyone had voted to reopen the city anyway. Sometimes, risks had to be taken.

Smiling softly, she continued to pet Michio's ears as she got to her feet. "Have you been a good boy?" she asked sternly.

"Yes," Michio said firmly, at the same time Ashlin snorted and said, "No."

Snickering, the furry youth snuggled his head under her chin. "I've been 'me,'" he amended.

Chuckling, Tamerin patted his bottom. "I'll bet," she noted wryly.

"Are you staying?" Michio wondered, as she stepped forward and through the doorway leading into Stardust House.

Tamerin was quiet for a moment as she let her eyes drift over everything. The cheerful décor, the clutter of toys, the happy faces that greeted her with cheers and laughter. She kissed Michio's cheek and hugged him tightly. "Of course I'm staying. There isn't anywhere else I want to be right now."

"And now that the residential block is open, I'm sure we'll be flooded with appointments for adoptions," Ashlin added brightly.

Michio drooped his ears and bugged his eyes out. "Oh, great," he moaned, wiggling out of Tamerin's arms.

Tamerin frowned at him, but she decided not to ask. Maybe he figured that once he had actual parents, he wouldn't get away with his shenanigans anymore.

There were plenty of Imeerans out in the city, but a lot of them were either frequently involved in heavy combat and thought the same as she did, or they already had plenty of children who were long since grown. Most from the residential area didn't spend a lot of time--if any--out on the battlefield, so they were the most likely to want to come and take one of her little wards home.

Smiling, she went over to the console in the wall by the door. "I'll send word out that we're open and waiting right away," she said.

And maybe, she thought wistfully as she typed the message out, she'd have a family of her own someday. She certainly hoped so.


	3. My Piece Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place roughly fourteen months before FMBH first starts. That's all I'm going to say.

Living a life governed by total paranoia really sucked. These days Charley didn't want to so much as pick up the phone when it rang, and when she had to go out she tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Sure, no one knew her face in this part of town, and hopefully if on the off-chance she bumped into someone she used to know, she had changed herself enough that she wouldn't be recognized...but people were nosy no matter where you went.

Middle-aged women she passed by in the grocery store were always stopping her and asking questions--like they were old friends and not complete strangers. When was her due date? Was she having a boy or a girl? Was this her first pregnancy? Charley tried to answer in the most polite, honest way she could: it was all just one big surprise.

That was really all she could say. She could guess when she was due by calculating back to that weird night, months ago...but that was all. She didn't know anything else--not a single thing. She wasn't even sure if nine months was the normal term or if it would be longer. And she didn't have a clue who the father was, but she made sure not to ever mention that, since it would raise eyebrows--and more questions. All she could do was dodge the issue when some prying busybody gushed over 'how happy and proud her baby's father must be.'

Charley could easily fib and say yes, he was happy. She had no doubt that he--whoever he was--was perfectly happy right now. He just wasn't happy here with her on Earth.

Sometimes she wished there was someone she could confide in about all this. Sometimes she felt like she was ready to lose her mind and just had to tell somebody everything, just to confirm it was all real and not in her head...but she didn't dare. This wasn't something that would resolve itself in a few months--this was her life now. Her baby wasn't even born yet, but every last thing she did these days was for his--or her--sake. And this paranoia, this desperate need for secrecy, would last for her child's entire life.

It would be too selfish to drag anyone else into this mess, and so she bore everything alone, in silence. She estimated that she would give birth before much longer; she was about eight-and-a-half months along now. It sure showed, and she tried to go out as little as possible. And when she did, she tried to go out after dark. She didn't have a job right now; she had taken all the money she got for her garage and everything she owned and was making it last by buying everything she could possibly get used, shopping almost exclusively these days at yard sales and thrift stores.

She'd get a job after the baby was born...preferably when she didn't look pregnant anymore and nobody would ask nosy questions about her new life as a mother. A few of the local repair shops and garages had openings, and her plan was to choose whichever place her fellow employees would care about her and her personal life the least.

She'd look into it some more later. Tonight she had taken a look around her apartment for anything she needed to restock and saw that she was low on a few essentials, and so, after grudgingly filling out a small shopping list, she grabbed her coat and headed out to her truck. It was well after ten and the street she drove down was dark, with only a handful of other vehicles in sight. Good.

Charley pulled up outside a small drugstore that was open until midnight every night and, after hiding her bulging middle as best she could with her long coat, headed briskly inside. She snatched up a small basket and started dumping the things she needed into it; toilet paper, tooth paste, paper towels. As she was browsing a shelf in the beauty aisle for a bottle of shampoo, her gaze fell on a nearby rack loaded with sample boxes of chocolates.

Kind of a strange place to put something like that--but the whole store was set up this way, with mini-displays and end caps full of random things scattered all over the place. Drugstores: the king of impulse buys.

Charley had worked hard to keep her cravings from getting out of control and to stay reasonably fit, and aside from her round stomach she had kept fairly slim and was confident that it wouldn't take her very long to shed her pregnancy weight once the baby was born...so one or two chocolates here and there wouldn't hurt.

After grabbing a box at random and tearing the plastic off, Charley munched as she grabbed the rest of her purchases and went up to the front counter. She handed over the open box long enough for the cashier to scan it, then went back to munching while everything else was rung up. The sleepy-looking cashier flashed her a tired smile as she passed her the full shopping bag, and Charley managed a weak smile in return as she took it and placed her money on the counter.

And that was when she heard the dripping sound. Puzzled, she looked down and saw what looked like water dripping off the hem of her coat and noisily hitting the tops of her boots. For a moment she didn't understand...but then it hit her. 

After staring at her feet in stunned silence for a few seconds, Charley exploded into motion as she was overcome by panic. She dropped her box of chocolates as she scrambled for the door, almost tripping over her own feet in the process. Bits of chocolate rained noisily in her wake, and as she ran as fast as she could across the parking lot, she heard the worried voice of the cashier calling after her, asking if she was all right.

Charley's hands were numb as she fell into her truck and jabbed her keys into the ignition. This just couldn't be happening--not out here. Not now.

The sudden pain that rippled through her midsection as she tore out of the parking lot told her otherwise. Like it or not, her baby was coming tonight. Charley had to force herself to let up on the accelerator--the last thing she needed right now was to get pulled over--as she drove unevenly back to her apartment building. After leaving her truck in the parking garage (she didn't pay any attention to where she parked, and she lost her shopping bag at some point) she stumbled, panting heavily, to the front door and unlocked it with shaking hands.

As she dragged herself up three flights of stairs to her apartment--the building was too cheap to install an elevator--Charley's heart pounded so hard she almost worried it would explode. No matter what happened, she couldn't risk letting anyone see her right now. They would figure out she was in labor and probably call an ambulance. And then she'd be dragged off to a hospital--the absolute last place on Earth she wanted to be.

Her lungs heaved and her sides throbbed as she all but fell against her apartment door and fumbled to open it. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to stop moving and lay down, but she ignored the pain she was in and locked the door as soon as she was inside, then went around making sure all the windows were latched and the shades were closed.

It was only after she was positive her apartment was secure did she finally pause, clutching her middle as she took several long, deep breaths to steady herself before she shed her coat and staggered to the bathroom. She closed the door and latched it, then slumped against it with a gasp and slowly slid to the floor as a fresh wave of pain swept over her.

She sat there like that for a long time, panting and clutching her stomach as the pain came and went. Her face was hot and damp with sweat, and even though she tried to fight them off, there were tears in her eyes...and not from the pain.

This wasn't how she imagined it would be. As surprising as it might sound to some, once upon a time she had filled her head with pretty ideas of what her future might be like someday. Like any young girl, she had pictured what it would be like to start a family. She had always envisioned lying comfortably in a warm hospital bed, in a delivery room with cheerful paintings and pretty wallpaper. And of course her husband would be standing at her side, coaxing and encouraging her every moment she labored, as anxious as she was to meet the person they had made together.

And now here she was, curled up against the door of her bathroom. There were no paintings and the wallpaper was unattractive and grimy, the rug she had tossed onto the floor when she moved in was stained, and the old tile underneath it was chipped and in need of new grout. Dust bunnies and cobwebs clustered in the corners and behind the toilet.

I'm so sorry, she thought silently as she cupped her belly, the tears spilling down her face. I wanted so much better for you. Dammit Vinnie, why aren't you here right now?

She never meant that last thought to form, but now that it had, she wanted to punch herself. You don't want him here, she reminded herself severely. It's not his baby. It's _not_.

It just couldn't be. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it if it was. She didn't care whose else it was, as long as it wasn't Vinnie's. Throttle or Modo; what difference did it make? They were both equally goofy in their own way. Though Throttle was probably the most clear-headed, even-tempered of the three. She imagined he'd make a good father, if he had to be one--not that it mattered. He was millions of light years away and had no idea what was happening to her tonight, which was probably a good thing. He had a significant other who might not take the idea of him having a child with another woman very well, even if he didn't have the slightest say in the matter.

It was probably best if it was Modo's. He had such a sweet, gentle nature, and any offspring of his would no doubt grow up tall and strong. Capable of fending for themselves. That was what Charley rationalized to herself as she lay there against the door, quietly trying to bottle her pain up in her mind so it wouldn't hurt so much...but no matter what she told herself, the thought of either one of them being the father of her child was too strange to be comforting. She didn't look at either of them in any way other than her pals--they were like her brothers. Furry ones.

It doesn't matter anyway, she reminded herself bitterly. No matter whose baby it was, she was in this alone. They were never coming back.

Her thoughts continued to swirl as the hours ticked by. Even after all the books she had read over the last eight months about being pregnant and giving birth, part of her had still hoped that real life labor was like how it looked on TV; a mad-dash to the hospital and delivery happening shortly after. No, reality was just like she had read--labor took forever. Plenty of time for her to drag herself to the linen closet and pull out towels and wash cloths to line the floor with, plus dig up things for cutting and tying off the umbilical cord.

As she settled back against the locked door again, dressed only in her t-shirt now, Charley felt a fresh wave of panic. Looking around at what she had just prepared...it made the impending reality of what was happening to her feel all the more immediate. She could start delivery at any time, but what if something went wrong? What then?

There was nothing she could do. She couldn't call for help. She didn't even risk crying out in pain too loudly as her contractions grew worse and worse; her neighbors had to go on sleeping in the apartments around her, peaceful, oblivious. As she bit back the urge to scream, Charley struggled to gather her thoughts, to go over the possible complications she had read about. She knew what to do if the cord got in the way, or if her baby was born not breathing...but there were plenty of other things that could happen that she would be helpless to fix.

Damn that stupid bug-lizard and its 'noble mission.' And damn those carefree mice for running off and leaving her like this. Oh, she could have told them before they left--sure. She knew there was nothing that would have stopped them from going home that night, and she hadn't been about to fly off to Mars and give up her life here.

The thought made her laugh bitterly despite the pain. Her whole life was gone anyway, and now she was a person that was a stranger even to her. And all because...

All because of this being inside of her, this person she had spent all these months nurturing and caring and preparing for, and loving more than she ever thought she could love any one being...for reasons she didn't fully understand or want to think about. This child, this part of her, was all she had left now.

A searing jolt of pain cut through her thoughts, and Charley bit back another scream. Was what she was feeling normal? The pressure that was building inside her felt like it was about to split her from the inside out. Panic swept over her anew; what if Martian mice and humans were a bad match? What if she ended up giving birth to some hideous _thing_? Or what if this pain that just kept getting worse meant that her baby was facing the wrong way?

This sudden thought sent such an icy jolt through her veins her hands went numb as they gripped at the rug. There wouldn't be a thing she could do if that was the case. She'd lie here in agony for hours to come, but eventually they would both be dead. Charley gave herself a shake and sat up straighter, mentally scolding herself to stop thinking like that. Just keep breathing and get through this.

But how would she even know when she was ready to start pushing? No, wait, she knew this; that was called crowning. That meant the baby's head had moved forward enough so it was partly visible and it was safe for her to push him the rest of the way out. The thought almost made her laugh; how was she going to check that? Peeking between her own knees was a feat she couldn't pull off without a mirror even before she had this enormous belly in her way.

Charley jerked her head up as the obvious solution hit her, and she fumbled her trembling hands for a drawer under the nearby sink. She blindly shoved a pile of combs, brushes and hair clips around before her fingers finally closed around the handle of a hand mirror. Panting and pushing strands of sweat-soaked hair off her face, she wiggled around for a moment until she found an angle where she could see around her belly, then swiveled the mirror until it was reflecting the space between her legs back to her.

What she saw made her stare blankly--dumbly--for several long moments. She could see something white and solid that she was pretty sure was the top of her baby's head, but that wasn't the strange part. Something else was sticking out, something narrow and stubby and rounded on the end--and there were two of them. Almost like a...

Like a pair of antennas.

Charley dropped the mirror with a clatter, planted her palms on the floor and dug her heels into the towels, then sucked in a deep breath...and started pushing. She pushed as hard as she could, ignoring the pain that sliced through her sharp as a razor's edge, and ignoring all the blood she saw seeping into the pile of towels she had folded under her. She forced down her own cries of pain, sucked in another breath and pushed again. And again.

When she took another breath to push a fourth time, Charley saw bursts of light and dark explode across her vision, tears were streaming down her face so hard they were dripping onto her shirt, and her face couldn't have been hotter if she had a raging fever. Her insides felt ravaged to the point she didn't think she'd ever put herself back together again--and then it all stopped. Her breath suddenly rushed out of her and she crumpled back against the door, feeling like all her bones had turned to jelly.

For a brief moment everything was silent. And then a shrill, squalling cry cut through the air, followed by a pitiful mewling sound.

It was like the last few hours never happened. Charley forgot all about the pain and misery she had been in only moments ago as she struggled to sit up, to look down at what lay, whimpering, between her feet.

If she hadn't given birth to it herself, she would never believe that it had come from a human being. The face, the tail, the ears, the antennas...they were entirely that of a Martian mouse. The furless skin was plump, pink, and slightly mottled. But no fur was needed for her to know. She knew now--knew without a single doubt--and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed a hand to her mouth.

There was no mistaking the distinct shape of the ears, the curve of the chin. She had seen his baby picture once; put that image side by side with this one and add a few pounds, and they could pass for twins. And then her gaze spied something else--and her already shaky breath hitched in her throat.

A boy. She'd had a boy. Oh, Vinnie, we have a son.

The dam of sobs she had been holding back for months finally broke, and she wept freely and uncontrollably as she carefully gathered her newborn son into her arms for the very first time. His fussing immediately quieted and his teary eyes opened and blinked at her. He was perfect--perfect and healthy and so beautiful. And for a brief moment it was like a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and her heart felt like it was cut in two halves, one side overflowing with joy while the other side ached in pain and loneliness.

She didn't want to live through this moment alone. She wanted to share it with the one who should have been with her tonight. I wish you were here, Charley thought distantly as she gazed into her son's dark eyes. I wish you could see him. I miss you so much.

These thoughts were hastily shoved back, tucked away and buried into a corner of her mind. The veil fell back into place. There was no one in her life to share this with, and there never would be. She'd come to accept that long ago.

Swallowing back her tears, Charley cradled her son closer and kissed his face. He was hers--hers and only hers. Whatever life threw at them, whatever trials and joys came their way, they were a team now. They'd face it all together--a twosome. She could live with that. She wanted to.

But even as she told herself this, the veil shifted slightly and that secret she'd buried away, that longing she had abandoned--discarded--started to try and whisper to her. For the tiniest of moments she let it--she listened, and took small comfort in it.

That secret longing would never come to be. But at least now she would always have a part of him with her.


	4. Fire&Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the young guard and the battle-hardened general. Takes place over the course of FMBH, from chapter 14 to chapter 30. Rated a hard T for some adult content.

_From the first time that I saw your face_  
_I knew you were the one_  
_A fire lit inside me_  
_And forever burning strong_

_There is no one here beside me_  
_I am lying here alone_  
_Tonight I'm counting on you baby_  
_To melt my heart of stone_  
~You're Making Me;  Issa

When Rimfire first decided to leave Mars for a little while, he hadn't been expecting anything all that special to happen. A little random fun, maybe--something to take his mind off the ugly scene that had taken place right before they left. Even if nothing exciting happened out here, on this strange, unknown planet, it was nice to get away from his boring job for a little while, to spend a little time with his uncle.

He hadn't been expecting this. This sudden jolt that traveled from the tips of his ears clear down to his furry toes. He'd never experienced anything like it before--and he'd never seen anyone quite like _her_.

Sure, he'd caught a glimpse of her onscreen a little while ago, but it had only been a fleeting glance. Nothing that could have prepared him for seeing her in person--for having her suddenly brush by him so close she almost touched him. He had thought every Imeeran female he had laid eyes on so far was pretty, but this one...she put them all to shame. The radiance of her skin, and the fiery glow of her hair, like every strand had been formed from red crystal...

It was a sight that left him breathless, and all he could do was stare as she walked by. Before he even knew what he was doing, he started following her, like her very presence had entranced him. Fortunately he had enough sense left (though not a whole lot) to not be blatantly obvious about it, and he darted around to the next street over, keeping sight of her through the buildings between them.

The parallel streets eventually curved to the right--and merged as they opened up into a wide, open area near the center of the city. With nowhere left to hide, Rimfire found himself trotting a few feet behind her, though he had to move quickly to keep up with her long, rapid stride. No one else seemed to be around--which was a good thing, because he suddenly realized how creepy he was being. Just what had gotten into him, anyway?

Giving himself a shake, he stopped walking and had every intention of turning around and heading back to Uncle Modo as fast as he could--and that was when the General spun around, hands planted on her hips as her bright red eyebrows lifted onto her snowy forehead. "You want something from me, little mouse?"

Rimfire felt the blood drain from his face. "Um--no," he stammered, all but shrinking back as her amber eyes bore into him like daggers. "That is, I didn't mean to disturb you, Miss General-ma'am."

Her eyebrows lifted just a touch higher. Slowly, her amber eyes drifted away from his face, moving--scouring--over the rest of him. There was something so intense about her gaze it left him feeling strangely paralyzed and vulnerable, and he glanced down at his boots as she continued to scrutinize him. He might be unfamiliar with this planet and the customs of its people, but she was someone who carried the highest of ranks and the kind of protocol her position demanded was no doubt universal--not to mention she was a woman, and all women needed to be treated respectfully. His actions bordered on inappropriate and she had every right to get mad at him.

He braced himself, preparing for a tongue-lashing about practically stalking military women--and then he let out a small gasp of surprise as the General suddenly gripped his chin and jerked his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. He hadn't even heard her move closer.

Her eyes narrowed at him, and he got the unsettling feeling that she was seeing a great deal more than the embarrassment on his face. Then he remembered--Imeerans could read your emotions just by touch. The thought made his face burn as his embarrassment mounted even further; could she tell how attracted to her he felt? Knowing that she probably could made his face burn even more, until he started to worry that his fur was going to melt clean off.

Her expression was calm--stony--as she slowly uncurled her fingers from his chin and pulled her hand away. Something in her face softened just the tiniest bit, and...was that a ghost of a smile on her lips?

Her eyes held a hint of amusement as she took a step back, ready to turn and continue on her way. "Run along, kid."

The word sent a jolt of annoyance through him. "I'm not a--" he started to say before he could stop himself.

The General stopped and faced him again, arms folding as she glared at him with eyes that clearly read 'you dare to contradict me?'

Shutting his mouth so fast his teeth clacked together, Rimfire ducked his head again. "I mean, I'll just be on my way now, Miss General-ma'am."

"Bevra."

He had every intention of running away like his tail was on fire, but this sudden assertion made him stop in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

She was still glaring at him in that unsettling way, and he had to fight the urge to squirm. "My name is Bevra. And you're not one of my men, so you don't have to stand at attention and call me General."

Rimfire blinked a couple of times, feeling a little taken aback. He didn't know of any high-ranking officers on Mars who didn't demand a little respect from everyone, even civilians. "Um, okay," he faltered, "Miss Bevra-ma'am."

The General let her hands drop to her sides with an impatient huff of air; her fingers flexed a little. "I'm not a 'miss' and I'm not a 'ma'am,'" she said sharply. "Call me either one again and I'm going to kick your fuzzy little ass."

Rimfire swallowed nervously. "Um, okay Miss--I mean, Bevra-ma'am--I-I mean..."

Cringing, he lifted his hands in defeat--and defense. "Please don't kill me."

She was at least an inch taller than him and looked toned and muscular beneath the leather jacket she was wearing, so he was pretty sure she could make good on her threat and then some. But even if she wasn't fit, she could still beat him up; it wasn't like he would defend himself, or fight back. She was a woman--and a general. Stranger to this colony or not, wouldn't lifting a hand against her get him thrown in prison...or worse?

He was still fearfully internalizing over it when the General suddenly pressed a hand to her eyes. Her other hand rested on her hip again, and her shoulders were shaking. She moved her hand down her face as a peal of quiet laughter escaped her lips, which had definitely turned up in a smile this time.

It was gone as quick as it had come, and for a moment she stared blankly off into the distance. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn there was a look of awe in her eyes.

Those eyes turned to look at him again, only this time there was something different about the way she gazed at him. Like she was actually seeing him for the first time. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've laughed about something?"

"Ummm...no."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you always say 'um' this much?"

"No," he said quickly, his face warming with fresh embarrassment. "Not usually."

A hint of a smile touched her lips again. "What's your name?"

He automatically stood up a little straighter. "Rimfire."

He almost said 'Rimfire, Ma'am,' but he caught himself this time. He tried to just call her by her name, but he didn't quite get it out. It felt strange to be so informal with someone he barely knew, even if he had her permission. It seemed a little rude.

She continued to smile faintly, her eyes drifting over him again--gently this time. "Rimfire," she repeated softly--and for some reason he felt a little thrill. "You have that 'I'm watching for danger and ready to protect the innocent' look about you. Are you a guard?"

"Yes," he responded, impressed that she could tell just by looking at him.

Her smile deepened just the tiniest bit as she glanced over her shoulder at the vast, dome-shaped building that stood behind her. "Would you like a tour of our military base, little guard?"

As she spoke, she turned away and started walking toward the base; Rimfire found himself jerking into motion, hurrying to catch up with her long stride. "Yes," he said again.

She pulled to a sudden stop and whipped her abruptly stony gaze at him. "Yes, what?" she asked sharply.

Rimfire had to gather his strength to meet her eyes...sort of. He had never known anyone whose gaze came anywhere close to the intensity of those amber-and-copper orbs, and he couldn't bring himself to look at them for very long before he was glancing away again. "Yes--Bevra," he forced out.

Looking pleased, she started walking again. With a gulp of air, Rimfire followed.

* * *

It took several hours to go over the entire base--excluding the areas forbidden to anyone without proper authorization, of course. Along the way, Bevra described to him their method of operation, and he listened to every word closely. It was interesting--but not _that_ interesting, yet he knew that he would have hung on her every syllable even if she was talking about paint drying. He found her voice all but mesmerizing, it flowed so smooth and low, with just a hint of underlying huskiness. He found himself asking questions the second she paused for a breath, just so he could hear it some more.

It was like she had placed him in a hypnotic daze, and he followed her around the base like there was some tangible force tying them together--a magnetic force, one that both attracted and repelled. When she wasn't looking right at him, he wanted to draw closer and closer to her, but when she faced him straight on, it was all he could do to keep from recoiling. It was a strange feeling that was almost intoxicating in its allure.

"So, everyone here is considered military to some degree?" he asked as the tour finally came to a close.

Bevra had brought him to the common room, and she turned and dropped back onto a sofa, draping her arms along the back of it and crossing her long legs. "Everyone who wants to be," she confirmed. "Our resources are limited, so we make sure no one's talents go to waste."

She paused then, and he took a seat across from her, barely noticing the two males in the room, hovering over by a table covered in small boxes of food and beverage containers. "I imagine those abilities would have to be evaluated in some way," he mused, genuinely intrigued now. This was a lot different from the way recruiting was handled back home.

"Children are given tests when they're small--harmless ones, like a peek at their general intelligence, their fluency in letters, numbers, shapes and colors, which isn't a whole lot different from normal teaching. Which is something that's barely done these days," she went on, uncrossing her legs and nudging a low table closer with her foot. She propped her feet on it and crossed her ankles. "Teaching, I mean. We used to have an actual school, but since all the children born before the war started are grown now, it's been converted to other purposes. There are the children at the orphanage, but only two of them are old enough to tackle actual studies, so they're both tutored individually."

She suddenly glanced over at the snack table; the two males hastily looked away and acted like they weren't listening. "Would you like a drink?" Bevra offered.

"Oh--no thank you."

She shrugged and continued. "Even at a young age, most of our children show signs of strength in specific areas, and they'll be continually tested and encouraged in these areas as they grow older. But none of them are ever manipulated into active duty," she said, sounding firm on the issue. "Even if someone shows considerable talent with something like high-tech repair but is only interested in becoming a musician...well, then a musician they'll be.

"Still," she added, moving her arms off the back of the sofa and shifting so she leaned against the sofa arm, "most who are capable of it wind up choosing to be out on the battlefield someday anyway, and those who aren't strong enough to fight have always freely offered up their other abilities for whenever they're needed--no one has ever turned down the option of being listed among the military ranks in some form or another. It's part of what makes us who we are, I guess. Though even those who aren't able to join us out on the battlefield aren't necessarily safe, not even here in the heart of the city."

She grew silent after that, her expression turning a little distant. Rimfire didn't have anything left to ask about...and even if he did, he wouldn't have wanted to disturb her. His ears suddenly twitched; the two males by the table were whispering to each other. Without his mouse hearing he probably wouldn't have noticed, but their words suddenly drifted over to him.

"Have you ever seen her act like this?"

"No! I've been working in this base for almost ten years and I've _never_ seen her talk this much."

This hushed exchange might have continued, but it didn't escape the notice of the General; she suddenly fired them both a look sharp enough to split cloth. They dropped their lunches and scrambled for the door, practically tripping over themselves as they fled. Scoffing quietly, she gave her head a shake.

"What about you?" Rimfire wondered, not knowing what else to say.

"Me?" The question seemed to catch her off guard.

"Well, yeah," he said uncertainly, hoping he hadn't crossed a line somehow. "Was it always your goal to climb the ranks?"

Something flickered across her expression, right before it turned solemn and unreadable. Something dark--and deeply sad. "No. Would you believe that when this war first started, I was only a private?"

Actually, he couldn't. He couldn't even picture that. His disbelief must have shown on his face, because she looked away from him, her eyes turning distant again--and a little bitter. "Thirty years ago I didn't have any ambition to be anything more. I had everything I wanted: a mate, two beautiful children, and no more responsibility than I wanted to have. I had no trouble following someone else's orders. But the war changed all that."

She looked at him again. "I don't know if you've already heard this or not, but my mate was one of the first to be killed when all this started."

Rimfire gave a tiny nod. "I heard. Tamerin mentioned it."

He was starting to regret having brought this up. She was hiding it, and hiding it well...but he could still see that remembering was causing her pain.

"Did she also mention that she's my daughter?"

Rimfire blinked in surprise. "No, she didn't."

But he realized now that he should have figured it out for himself. Aside from similar skin tone, the two of them had the same high cheekbones and similarly shaped noses and mouths.

Bevra gave a bitter chuckle and shook her head again. "Not too surprising. We haven't behaved like mother and child since that dark day thirty years ago. I knew she was strong, so I left her alone to finish raising Jayce for me while I went and all but clawed my way to the top. They took away the one I loved and more of my other friends and loved ones than I would ever want to count. Tamerin will probably tell you that my one goal in life now is to bring an end to this war, and to the ones who started it...and she would be right."

She got up suddenly and crossed to the snack table, where she poured herself a drink. Rimfire waited until she sat down again before asking, tentatively, "When was the last time the two of you talked?"

"You mean in a manner other than General to Major? It's been years. And we almost never speak face to face anymore."

Scoffing quietly, she took a sip of her drink. "I doubt she has any idea how much I envy her."

"About what?" Rimfire asked quietly, though he wasn't sure it was any of his business.

This time, the look of pain that passed through her eyes was clear. "She isn't afraid of being exactly who she is."

* * *

Over the next few days, Rimfire didn't travel very far from the base, and if he did, it was never for very long. No one minded--he had the General's permission to be here--and he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, and to grab a spare bunk when he was tired. He didn't see much of either Uncle Modo or Throttle...but he wasn't really looking for them. And even when he caught a glimpse of one of them, he was usually already on his way to do something else.

Mostly his movements matched Bevra's--or at least tried to. She was a hard woman to keep track of, the way she darted around the city, moving to and from the base or heading clear up to the surface at times. The announcements that scrolled along the marquees were a help, and sometimes he caught a glimpse of one of those integrated consoles.

Why was he going through so much trouble to follow the General around? He asked himself that very question a day or so after she showed him around the base...and the only answer he could come up with was that he was completely and thoroughly smitten.

It wasn't the most fortunate turn of events. It was embarrassing, because he knew that even if his interest didn't show on his face, she could still tell by touching him. He tried vainly to keep out of direct contact with her, but she was forceful and abrupt and he never knew when she was going to grab his hand or arm and pull him someplace. There was no hiding it.

At least she didn't seem bothered by it. If anything, his youth and naivete seemed to amuse her. One afternoon she pulled him to the side after they happened to meet up outside the base and pressed something into his hand. "So we can stay in touch directly," she said, as way of explaining the wrist communicator she'd just given him. "Just don't abuse it."

"Never," he vowed.

"It's the only form of direct communication we have," she added, as he slid the slender silver band onto his wrist.

Rimfire had heard that mentioned once before, when Throttle asked Tamerin about TV or radio. "How come?" he wondered.

"Too dangerous," she responded simply. "We don't know how closely the shifters monitor us, so we keep everything down to that lone encrypted system everyone has. We're aware of the possible threats caused by long-range signals, which is why only members of the military use these."

Surprised, Rimfire looked down at the band again. "Is it even a good idea for me to have this, then?" he asked uncertainly. "I wouldn't want to accidentally--"

Bevra suddenly reached a slender hand out and closed her fingers around his wrist, covering the communicator. Her eyes glowed like there was fire behind them as they bore into his; Rimfire felt a shiver run through him. "Keep it," she told him, in that low, husk voice of hers. "It's rude to refuse a gift."

Rimfire swallowed and nodded mutely. She gave his hand a tug. "Come on, have you seen all of the city yet?"

"No," he said, as his feet sped to keep up with her rapid gate. "Not completely."

He'd mostly hung around down here. So that day Bevra gave him a tour of the rest of the city, though she had much more to say about the working lower level than the playful upper level. She showed him the various businesses, which stocked things imported from other planets as well as things manufactured right here in the city. They didn't have a great deal of room, so large factories weren't really possible, she explained.

"We don't have enough room for a printing press, or much storage space for book collections," she commented as she picked up a data pad in a store full of electronics. "All our reading material has to stay digital."

Rimfire thought that was kind of a shame; there was nothing quite like the smell of an old book. Even though, he reminded himself sheepishly, he was more of a comic book reader.

Imeerans didn't bother with comics or magazines, or so Bevra told him, before she handed him the data pad. Rimfire blinked in surprise. "For me?"

"Take as much as you want," said the clerk behind the counter. His voice sounded almost as stiff as his posture looked; Bevra glanced at him before rolling her eyes. "At ease, civvie."

Rimfire glanced at him--he didn't 'ease' very well--as he thought about how they didn't use money around here. "What's his job, since he doesn't have to worry about handing out receipts?" he wondered.

"Keeping track of what leaves the store," Bevra responded. "So they know what's in demand and what needs to be restocked."

"Ah."

There were plenty of other interesting things in the store, like music players and computer games, but he wasn't going to take anything else. He was only visiting and didn't really have anywhere to keep things. Bevra seemed to understand this, so after she felt like they had lingered long enough, she put a hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the store.

Outside, a handful of Imeeran citizens stood at attention; one or two saluted. Without bothering to look at anyone, Bevra made a snap-like gesture with her hand--the same gesture he had seen Tamerin and Jayce make back in the guard station. He looked over his shoulder and saw the group relax their posture...just the tiniest bit. A light dawned: that flicking motion had to mean 'at ease.'

"Is it always like this?" he wondered.

"Ever since I was promoted."

She glanced at him as she took her hand from his shoulder. "I'm kind of revered around here," she went on. "Back when I was first climbing the ranks, there was more than just one active general. The one who promoted me retired shortly afterward and is still alive, but the others..."

She absently folded her arms, her hands cupping her elbows. "They were all eventually killed in combat. Now there's just me."

Rimfire felt his heart fill with sympathy. "Must be difficult," he noted. Not to mention lonely.

Bevra shrugged a little. "I'm used to it. We all have to make sacrifices right now."

Rimfire gave an understanding nod--and then frowned as he realized that the two of them were being watched. It was discreet, but the locals they passed by as they moved down the street were definitely staring at them. "Aren't you off duty?" he wondered.

"More or less." There was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I think you're responsible for the extra attention," she added.

"Me? How come?"

No one had paid much attention to him back when he was in the guard station, or when he wandered around the city by himself...but maybe that was the point. "Let's put it this way," Bevra said, with a toss of her shimmery hair. "This is probably the most time I've spent with someone who wasn't one of my men since...well, since my mate died."

"Oh."

Frowning, Rimfire stopped walking and thought about this for a moment. Hesitantly, he asked, "Spending so much time with me doesn't reflect badly on you, does it?"

The General paused her steps and gave him a questioning look. "Reflect badly how?" she wanted to know. "You're an other worlder and I'm escorting you around town. Nothing more."

For some reason, those last two words made something sink deep inside him. "Nothing?" he echoed quietly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course not. What else would it be?"

Of course not, he repeated silently. His cheeks warming uncomfortably, he glanced down at the black tile beneath his feet as that something inside him sank even further. Was what she had just told him--and that look she was giving him--a subtle hint? A way of telling him without saying it directly that his rapidly budding crush was a foolish waste of time?

He had no way of being sure if that was the message she was trying to send or not...but he sure hoped it wasn't. Because try as he might to quell it, this strange, powerful attraction he had been feeling ever since the moment he first laid eyes on her only seemed to be getting stronger. Still, he knew he had to at least put forth a little effort.

"I believe you have shown me all there is to see," he ventured, in as neutral of a voice as he could manage. "If you have other duties to attend to, I'm sure I can show myself around from now on."

Bevra looked at him for a moment, almost like he had taken her by surprise...and if he didn't know any better, he would swear there was a hint of reluctance in her eyes. Those rich amber orbs blinked once; her smooth composure slid seamlessly into place again. "Have you eaten yet tonight?"

"Um...no."

A smile broke across her face--a real, genuine smile, her face wide and open as anything. She almost started laughing, and the sight of it made his heart thump pleasantly. He wasn't sure what it was he had done...but he knew that it was he who had caused the joy he was seeing in her eyes. He had brought this light to her face. And he knew that this knowledge made him way happier than it should have.

"You're saying 'um' again," she told him.

Rimfire felt his cheeks start to warm again. But he couldn't tear his gaze from her eyes, which danced as she continued to smile at him. "I guess it's my personal mantra," he joked.

More like being around her left him tongue-tied--which she could no doubt figure out on her own as she suddenly swooped up his hand and gave it a tug. "Come on, my favorite restaurant is just down the street. Everyone will clear out the second I walk through the door and we'll have the whole place to ourselves."

Rimfire laughed weakly as she pulled him along, knowing he was helpless to stop her...which wasn't the only thing he knew he was helpless to stop.

* * *

The rest of the week continued the pattern his time on Malteria seemed to have fallen into; lurking around the base or just outside it when Bevra wasn't around and hurrying to meet her when she was. Several times she contacted him directly and told him where to find her...and anyone who was in earshot always looked at him oddly when she did. He didn't wonder why; he had learned that aside from hospital staff members, there was only one person in the entire colony who wasn't involved in combat that had the wrist communicator he now wore. Passing them out to those who didn't head off to the battlefield was unnecessary--and handing them to someone from off planet was unheard of.

He didn't ask why he was worthy of such a gift--or why the General had taken such an interest in him, because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. He ended up supplying his own answers, concluding that he was young and still had a lot to learn, still had a lot of on-field experience to garner...and Bevra, as a top-ranking official, had taken it upon herself to give him a few pointers. She was a virtual wellspring of knowledge; he didn't think he had ever met a more brilliant mind. Even when she was off duty, her thoughts were swift, strategic and cunning. He doubted she was ever caught off guard, even when she was asleep. She was amazing.

Not knowing what else to do--and keeping things in a down-to-business context seemed like the safest course--Rimfire continued to ask questions about things like training methods and promotion requirements and tour limits. But one afternoon, as he and the General took a stroll across the lower level, she brushed his inquiries aside. "I don't want to talk shop today," she said briskly.

She looked distracted. In fact, a lot of Imeerans had looked distracted--upset--for the last few days, and Bevra soon told him why. The scouts who had been quietly exploring the surface, looking for some sign of where the shape-shifters were hiding out, had been ambushed. She had gone up to the surface herself to help retrieve their broken bodies--which she assured him would heal...in time. It would all be worth it, she said, if they had found something, but they hadn't. And all of a sudden Rimfire knew exactly what she was thinking.

She was worried that even though they were able to see their enemy clearly now, it didn't change anything. She worried that they were no closer to ending this war than they were thirty years ago.

It was a scary thought--one she didn't want to think about right now. She was in search of a way to clear her head, and she eventually led him to the outskirts of the city and through the glass of the dome, into a transparent tube that was smaller than the ones that led out to other structures. It was the same size around as the other tubes, but it only extended for a few feet before it abruptly came to an end, though there was more to it than that.

It was larger at the end, flaring out in a circular shape so it was several feet wider than the length of the tube, the shape of it putting Rimfire in mind of a thermometer. There was plenty of room here for numerous people to stand around together...that is, if they wanted to stand around together here, since there was a big hole in the center of the floor.

For a moment Rimfire was confused--but he quickly caught on. Fastened directly below the hole was a giant glass sphere, at least twenty feet around and high. The glass was thick and sturdy-looking, though it was covered in crisscrossing slits about an inch or so wide, allowing the water of the ocean to pass through. Lights were suspended outside on poles extending up from the ocean floor, making the blue water surrounding the area as bright as day, and tiny fish and other sea life glistened as they darted through the slits in the glass.

The current was making gentle waves slap quietly at the mouth of the hole, which was only a little larger than a body-width in circumference. Bevra was nudging off her boots with her toes. "Do mice swim?" she wondered.

Rimfire felt his stomach flutter a little, and not just from the embarrassment that hit him when he realized she was getting undressed. "Not very well," he admitted. "I don't, at least."

Bevra 'tsked' in disapproval. "For shame, little guard. Swimming is one of the most basic of survival skills. Especially around here."

She shrugged her jacket off and set it aside, then skimmed off her black jeans. Rimfire glanced away as he fidgeted uncertainly. "My uncle taught me, years ago," he said quietly. For when the boat tipped during their fishing trips--which happened a lot. "But that was before the war started and our planet was stripped apart. We have to ration what little water we have left now, so swimming for recreational purposes is completely out of the question. I haven't been in a large body of water since I was small."

"It's not really something you forget," Bevra noted, as she tugged the red tank top she was wearing over her head. Underneath it she had on a shimmery black swim suit. It was skintight and displayed ever last curve, but it was also high-necked and modest, so he looked at her again...shyly.

"I don't have anything to change into," he pointed out.

Bevra looked amused. "So? Around here, the males jump in whenever they feel like it, whether they're dressed for it or not. Feel free to dive in fully clothed, in your undies, or stark naked--no one around here will care."

Rimfire continued to hesitate, which prompted the General to place her hands on her hips and say, "Are you going to get in willingly, or am I going to have to grab you and dump you in?"

Her amber eyes narrowed meaningfully, and Rimfire didn't doubt that she could easily back this threat up. "Don't get mad if I can't manage more than treading water, please," he said, as he slowly wiggled out of his vest.

He sure hoped she didn't decide to watch him undress. Unless you counted his mother or sister, no female had ever come close to seeing him in his underwear.

Fortunately, she looked satisfied that she had roped him into being her swimming partner and turned to look down at the lapping water while he tugged his shirt over his head. A moment later she stepped over to the rim of the hole, curling her toes around the edge; Rimfire paused and watched as she crouched down, the muscles of her body pulling tight before she launched herself forward by her strong legs. She disappeared into the water without hardly making a ripple.

Relieved to be alone for the moment, Rimfire reached down to pull off his boots. And what does this change, exactly? he asked himself dryly, as he unfastened his pants and tugged them off. What difference did it make if she saw him in his underwear up here or down there? It was like his nerves were reeking havoc with his reason. And the fact that it had been so many years since he went swimming had nothing to do with him being so nervous right now.

He took a long moment to fold his things neatly--blatant procrastination--before walking over to the hole and gazing down. He wiggled his bare toes against the rim; could he dive in like the General? Yeah, right. He wasn't going to embarrass himself trying, so he did the most juvenile, cautious thing possible and sat down before slipping into the water feet-first, clinging to the edge the entire time. 

It felt a little strange at first. The gently flowing water pushed and pulled the length of his short fur around, which kind of tickled and he had to struggle not to giggle. The water was crystal-clear and pleasantly warm, and it only took a few moments for him to get used to it. It was kind of relaxing, actually, and he eased his grip on the edge and let himself float.

Before long he was floating completely. There was enough room on the small surface inside the hole to float on his back, and he closed his eyes and lightly brushed his fingers through the water for a little while. When his head suddenly thumped against the rim of the hole, he straightened up and swam to the other side again. Bevra was right; he didn't even stop to think about it first. He just went by memory and started swimming.

Feeling confident now, he let go of the edge and looked down at the sphere-shaped pool underneath him. Through the clear glass of the floor and the shimmering water, he could clearly see Bevra's white form drifting along below, making the long tendrils of sea plants growing up from the ocean floor dip in her wake. Propelling herself more with her feet than her hands, her figure curved with ease, following along the shape of the sphere until she was at its widest point at the front. Her fingers stretched out and gripped the slits in the glass; a school of pinkie-sized fish that gleamed blue and green swam past her, splitting into two separate groups as they moved around her, then reformed when they were on her other side, like she was a natural part of the ocean and nothing they were afraid of.

The shimmer of the waves and the glass of the floor made uneven, prism-like images as Rimfire continued to watch through them; the General pushed away from the sphere and curved back in one fluid motion, turning in a complete circle effortlessly. With a swirl of her arms, she flipped around and rotated the other way, each one of her movements so seamless, so fluid, like a...

Well, in his experience, likening someone to a fish definitely wasn't a compliment. His mind tried to shift comparison to something equally at home in the water, only nicer...a mermaid, maybe? That seemed much more accurate. Mermaids were mythical and mysterious, sultry and seductive, and otherworldly beautiful.

Yes, that was definitely accurate.

The General spun around again, and before Rimfire realized what she was doing, she had popped up beside him with the speed and accuracy of a torpedo. She pushed her wet hair back from her eyes. "Are you coming down or what?" she demanded.

Her tone was strange--for her. It was light and playful, and her eyes danced as they narrowed at him. He'd never heard her sound like that before.

"Hey, I told you I'd probably only tread water," he reminded her.

"You managed a dead-man's float," she pointed out.

"Uh, actually that's what they call it when you're floating on your stomach--which is a position I'd kind of like to avoid."

The laughter in her eyes told him that she knew the difference. "What, you think I'd let anything happen to you?"

As she spoke, she took hold of both his hands. Rimfire wondered if she knew mouth-to-mouth...just in case. Considering that she was from a race that supposedly had gills? Probably not.

"Just take a deep breath," she coaxed, as she tugged him out to the center of the small pool. "Although," she went on, "in order to swim deeper easier, it's actually better to not have your lungs completely filled with air. You sink faster when they're emptier."

Rimfire blinked once. "Okay, now I'm confused. Should I take a deep breath or not?"

This time she laughed out loud. And just like the last time he made her smile, her face suddenly became open--unguarded. She had forgotten all about her troubles, pushed them deep down into some pocket of her mind where she couldn't see them. And until something reminded her of those troubles again, she was happy.

He'd made her happy.

It was a discovery that flooded his heart with so much warmth that it spilled out into his veins. As he absently tightened his grip on her hands, curling his fingers around hers, he wondered if she could feel this warmth inside him, too.

The smile she was giving him turned soft. "All you need to do is _relax_. Take as deep of a breath as you want, and leave the rest to me."

She was obviously telling him to trust her...and he did. He took a moment to coax the tightness out of his muscles before, like his uncle had taught him, he breathed steadily and deeply for several seconds before drawing in as much air as his lungs could comfortably carry and then held his breath. Bevra gave his hands another tug, pulling him downward; her head dipped below the surface, followed closely by his own.

The feeling of water filling his ears was a little strange, but it didn't really bother him. The sudden sting of the water hitting his eyes was another story, and he hastily squeezed them shut. All ocean water was salty, wasn't it? And how exactly could a planet that was so toxic on the surface have water that was pure and safe? He was curious about it...but the thought faded from his mind as he suddenly felt Bevra kicking her feet beside him. She let go of one of his hands and pulled him with her as she moved swiftly along.

He wasn't ready to go very deep yet, and he cautiously cracked his eyes open to see where they were. It didn't sting this time, and he blinked in the bright, clear light and saw that they had only gone to roughly the center of the sphere, and Bevra hadn't taken him very deep, leaving only a short distance back to the surface.

Relieved, Rimfire relaxed again and looked around. Outside of the sphere, the ocean water turned darker blue as it faded from the range of the lights, until it looked like a wall of black. It was a strange contrast to how bright, lively and beautiful it looked here, just outside the dome of the city, but he could easily imagine the rest of the ocean looking just the same everywhere else--just not lit up like this. It made him feel comfortable and safe, like the two of them were hidden away in some secret place...a place just for them.

But that was just silly. No doubt plenty of other Imeerans went swimming here all the time. And he needed some air about now, and he gave Bevra's hand a small squeeze to give her the message. She responded immediately, turning around and pulling him back toward the hole. When his head broke through the surface, Rimfire thought that the air felt strangely cold.

After he'd taken a few panting breaths, he voiced the question that had popped into his mind a minute ago. "We wondered about that too, years ago," Bevra responded. "After a lot of testing we discovered that the bacteria and microscopic organisms that live in the air and make life unpleasant for those with soft skin can't survive in areas with high moisture content. There are other kinds of poisons up there, and some of them do seep into the ocean--but only for the first few feet at the surface. Below that, everything is completely clean and pure, and safe to drink from directly. Well, we do prefer to filter out all the fish waste first," she added with a smirk.

Rimfire thought about that for a moment. "So, you filter the ocean water straight into the city?" he asked.

"Precisely. This planet is almost completely covered in water, so it's the one resource there's no shortage of."

Which meant plenty of water for crops, drinking, bathing--and for just having fun. His envy must have been pretty obvious, because Bevra took his hands with another smirk. "Ready for more?"

"And how."

* * *

Rimfire lost all track of time, but the two of them must have spent hours down there, alternating between exploring underwater and taking breaks at the surface. After the first few times he had to head up for air, he was pleased to note that he was able to stay down longer and longer, and after a while Bevra stopped towing him along like a dinghy and he swam freely on his own. But he had no hope of matching her flawless movements, and he didn't waste time trying, though he sometimes felt a little embarrassed by the jerky way he flapped his arms to propel himself.

He tried to kick with his feet like Bevra did, but he couldn't seem to gain the same kind of momentum she could. He would move along at a good clip for a few feet...but then he would drift to a halt and had to flap his arms again. But he didn't really care--it was fun.

When Bevra wasn't kicking along or twirling in circles, she liked to drift up to the glass and watch the ocean life playing on the other side. Rimfire hadn't made it that far yet, but when he saw her on the far side of the sphere again after he came back down from getting more air, he decided to be bold and swam his way over to her. When he reached her, he stretched his hands out to grip the slits in the glass--only as soon as he was anchored in place, his back end started to rise. He hastily kicked his feet and snagged his toes in the slits, too; good thing they were wide enough.

Bevra didn't need to grip with her feet. She just hovered in place, like she was made of air. But she no doubt had a lot more experience than he did, plus she was partly built for undersea existence, so he didn't feel jealous about it. He just admired her. Admired how flawless her every move was, and how her white skin glistened in the warm light, and how her red hair glowed and drifted around her face, as airy as the sea plants that waved beneath their feet.

She was beautiful--so beautiful it made something deep inside him ache strangely. His throat grew tight and he quickly looked away, instead gazing out at the ocean through the crisscrossing pattern in the glass. There were playful schools of fish darting around, and bulbous forms like jellyfish floating above them, and something round and fat drifting by, like a turtle. It shifted direction and floated their way, coming so close it ended up bumping into the glass. A stubby nose poked out of the chubby shell, and dark eyes blinked in confusion before a set of flipper-like feet appeared and kicked off, sending the strange creature back the way it came.

It was so silly-looking Rimfire would have laughed--if he didn't need to keep his mouth shut and his air in his lungs, that is. He looked at Bevra again--and realized with a start that she had been watching him. He hadn't been this close to her or looked directly in her eyes while they were underwater before. He noticed now that her amber eyes looked a little cloudy, and her eyelids didn't blink as her gaze traveled over his face. Probably protected by a transparent membrane, he thought absently.

There was something else, too, something he hadn't noticed before, but suddenly spotted as her thick hair was pushed back from her face by the current. There were two slender lines along the sides of her neck, like paper-thin slits, a little below and behind her ears. Extending out from the slits were two small, gauzy shapes--transparent, airy and insubstantial.

When he'd heard that Imeerans had gills, this wasn't what he had pictured. He had seen plenty of kinds of gills in his time, and they were always large and red and kind of ugly. Nothing like this, which put him in mind of two triangular strips of tulle, and they fluttered up and down from time to time, like a tiny pair of wings flapping gently.

It wasn't like anything he had ever seen. There was only one word he could use to describe them: beautiful. Just like the rest of her. And suddenly he knew he wanted more than anything to reach out, wrap his arms around her and...

His throat suddenly felt tight again--and then he realized that it was constricting and his lungs were burning, and he hastily pushed away from the glass and kicked back up the surface. He rose up just enough for his head to break into the air, and he took a shaky breath as his fingers curled around the edge of the pool; he rested his forehead on the backs of his hands.

A second later he felt Bevra surface beside him; he closed his eyes and didn't look up. Don't come close to me right now, he silently begged.

He felt her hand rest on his back, up between his shoulders; he almost flinched in response. She didn't ask him what was wrong, but he knew she was wondering. The fingers that moved from his back to his head, combing through his hair, seemed to be filled with question. And he knew those same fingers could find the answer to that question.

Oh god, could she tell what was on his mind right now? Tamerin said Imeerans couldn't outright read thoughts, but the emotions coursing through him no doubt said more than enough. Stop touching me, he pleaded mentally. If you can tell what's going on inside me right now, just stop. Move away.

She didn't. Her hand continued to stroke the back of his head, tracing the shape of it, her fingertips caressing the base of his ears. She'd stopped silently asking a question--she was telling him something now. Her hand drifted around to the side of his face, her fingers stroking the underside of his jaw. It was a gesture that was both gentle and coaxing: she wanted him to lift his head. She wanted him to look at her.

He couldn't. He knew what would happen if he did--what he would do if he looked at her eyes, her face. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself--not now. And then what? Would she get angry? Push him away? Slap him? Probably all three.

He wanted to warn her off, but he didn't trust himself to speak right now. He knew he would only stammer and fumble over his words--like a frightened child. So he kept his mouth and eyes firmly shut, even as her hand moved around and gripped his chin. Her grasp was firm, and he knew he had no hope of pulling away as she lifted his head up and turned his face toward her.

He could feel her eyes burning against his closed lids--willing him to open them and look at her. He tried to fight it, but they seemed to open at their own accord, both terrified and eager to meet her gaze. When he did, his heart turned over in his chest; her eyes were blazing, the copper rings glowing like they were on fire. He could only stare, as frozen and entranced as if a physical force was holding him in place.

And then she did what he was longing to do. What he had ached to do for longer than he realized. She grabbed his shoulders, pushed herself up against him and kissed him.

It happened so fast it took his breath away and set his heart racing like wildfire. Her mouth was burning hot, and her lips seared over his as she kissed him--kissed him over and over again, fevered and almost wild. It was a passionate onslaught he was helpless to stop, and he found himself clinging to her, putting his hands around her waist as her arm locked around the back of his neck. Her other hand slid down his side and to the small of his back, pressing him even closer to her and holding him in place...as if he wanted to get away.

Rimfire tried to match her frantic pace, to meet her heated kisses with his own, his mouth open as it greeted hers. Teeth bumped and tongues met, stroking and entwining. A quiet moan escaped him and every hair on his body stood on end; his arms slid around her further, tightening, drawing her even closer.

Bevra broke away suddenly, her breath pulling in sharply. Rimfire blinked his eyes open; she was staring at him, panting even harder than he was. Her molten eyes were wide--awed. And here he had thought he had seen her expression unguarded before. That was nothing compared to the look of wonder she was giving him now. And lying far beneath it, hidden deep inside her eyes, was the tiniest trace of fear.

Her arms uncoiled from him slowly. Her wet skin stuck to his fur, like their flesh had tried to melt together during their heated embrace. She brought her hands up and traced her fingertips over his face, her look of wonder growing. Her voice was small and whisper-soft as she spoke. "What are you doing to me?"

Rimfire didn't answer. Even if he had been able to speak right now, he wasn't sure what she was asking.

Bevra gave her head a small shake, her eyes never leaving his. Her hands moved down a little and cupped his face tenderly--like he was some kind of precious treasure. "Are you real?"

He didn't know how to answer that either...at least not with words. His heart and mind answered for him, raw and exposed and impossible to hide. His feelings were real.

With a shaky sigh, Bevra closed her eyes and sank her head to his shoulder, her arms slipping around him again. "This is impossible," he heard her mumble. "This just can't be happening. But if it's all just a dream...I don't ever want to wake up."

* * *

Things changed between them after that day. Bevra continued her duties as usual, but the second she had a moment free, she practically ran to him. She didn't kiss him again...but whenever she took his hand now, it was different. It wasn't to tug him along insistently anymore. It was gentle. Shy. It made his heart soar.

They spoke to each other differently, too. Their conversations had turned personal, talking about their pasts, their joys, their sorrows. In all his days Rimfire didn't think he had ever met a lonelier person.

She wasn't obvious about it, but when she spoke about her daughter and son, the look of envy in her eyes was plain. Jayce had been hurt by the war and didn't trust easily, but he had a close-knit group of friends and he wasn't afraid of letting loose and having fun when he had the chance. And Major Tamerin had a second job she adored. She loved children, Bevra said, and running the orphanage supplied her with no end of joy. She was respected and looked up to by lower-ranking officers...but she also had plenty of friends. People she could rely on. Confide in.

One of the drawbacks of being on top, Bevra told him one afternoon, was it meant everyone was afraid of you. She didn't mind, generally; it helped get things done faster. But Rimfire could tell without her saying so that she wished she had someone to talk to who didn't stand at attention the second she walked into the room. Someone she could drop all the rigid protocol around and speak openly and freely to. Someone she could be herself with.

Rimfire hoped she realized that he could be that someone. His heart still skipped a beat when he caught sight of her, but in many ways he had grown comfortable and relaxed around her. He'd even gotten over his misgivings and didn't feel funny calling her only by her name now. As they moved aimlessly around the edge of the city that day, keeping close to the glass of the dome, he felt like reaching out and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze...but he checked himself, because they weren't alone.

A male he didn't recognize was standing a few feet ahead of them, his head tilted back slightly as he watched the ocean outside. Rimfire didn't pay much attention to him at first, but as they drew closer, he expected him to react like everybody else did--acknowledge the General's presence respectfully. But he didn't.

Bevra paused when they were beside him. Her expression was businesslike, but the tone she used when she spoke was soft. "Holding up all right, Kyle?"

The male didn't look at her as he answered. "More or less."

"Good. Carry on."

Again without looking at her, Kyle nodded and continued to stare out at the ocean. Frowning a little, Rimfire glanced back as they moved past him. Something about him struck him as strange; his posture was stiff, yet he was hunched over slightly, and when he spoke his voice sounded oddly distant. Mechanical. Like his body was responding automatically when someone asked him something, but his mind was somewhere else completely.

Seeing his confused gaze, Bevra glanced at him before focusing straight ahead again. "He lost his mate, years ago," she explained. "He's been like that ever since. Like he's only partially here. Sadly, he's considered one of the lucky ones, since most of us don't survive the shock of losing half of ourselves."

Rimfire had heard it mentioned once or twice how bad--and often deadly--the shock of losing a mate was around here. "I don't mean to be rude," he said quietly, "but I'm not sure I really understand. Why is losing your mate so different from losing any other loved one?"

No one ever said anything about wasting away until you were gone after losing a sibling or something. Bevra paused and looked at him for a moment. "Let's go somewhere private," she said. "I don't want to go into it out here."

She led him out of the city and through a tube, and into an area he hadn't been to before. It was quiet and softly-lit, with long hallways and numerous closed doors. Bevra took him to a door at the end of a hallway and pressed a button on the nearby keypad to open it. She made a motion with her hand, indicating for him to go inside--and that was when Rimfire realized they were at her private apartment.

The idea of going in there alone with her made him hesitate. Not because he worried something would happen...but because he worried all her neighbors would automatically _think_ something had happened. "I shouldn't," he faltered, when she looked at him questioningly after he continued to hesitate.

"Why not?" she asked, sounding like she saw absolutely no reason not to invite a young male into her home.

"It might give people the wrong idea," he explained uncertainly. "I wouldn't want to put your integrity in a bad light."

Now she almost looked amused. "No one's going to think anything of you coming in here. That's not the way things work around here."

Rimfire wasn't sure what she meant, but she wasn't interested in telling him more, at least not here. "I'll explain everything to you, but you have to come in first, because I'm not going to tell you while we're standing out here in the hall."

With that, she stepped inside and slipped off her leather jacket. After hesitating for a long moment, Rimfire moved into the white apartment slowly, the door swishing shut behind him. "Have a seat," Bevra told him, gesturing to a white sofa.

He sat obediently, his eyes glancing around at the crisp, almost icy decor. It seemed fitting to her personality, and he was pretty sure if he had seen this place without being told who it belonged to, he probably would have been able to guess.

Bevra shed her boots, then pulled up a short stool and sat down in front of him. Rimfire was used to looking upward to meet her gaze, so it felt a little funny to be looking down at her for a change. It made her seem smaller somehow. Maybe even a little vulnerable.

"I've told you about my mate," she began in a quiet voice. "And how I lost him. But there's a lot more to it that you don't know."

And she told him, every last part of it. How Imeerans bonded for life, how their bodies synchronized with each other. How when the bond they shared was suddenly severed by death, it was often unbearable to the point where it was lethal. When she finally finished, he leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling a little confused about one or two things. "Forgive me if this sounds crude, but...if someone survives losing their mate, what prevents them from coupling with someone else someday?"

Bevra flashed him a thin smile, like she had been expecting him to ask that. "For males, it's completely impossible--without his mate he's incapable of becoming aroused enough to get an erection. For females...it's a little more complicated. Her body will violently rebel against entering a situation that will excite her, causing all sorts of nasty symptoms. It's still possible, though," she went on grimly, "for a female who isn't strong enough to defend herself to be forced. Fortunately that's never happened, but I would imagine it would be agonizingly painful. Which is why even after years have passed and a new male takes interest, he would never try to 'speed up' her getting over her lost mate by being intimate with her."

Rimfire gave a nod, understanding now. It sounded like even if they wanted to, neither a male or female could experience a full relationship again, even if they were emotionally ready to move on from losing their mate.

Realization hit like ice water. Yes, he understood now. He understood completely.

Swallowing thickly, he slowly rose to his feet. "I get what you're trying to tell me," he said quietly, not looking her in the eye. He couldn't. "I'll be going now."

He turned away before she could see the pain on his face--but it was a waste of time, just like always. He couldn't hide from her now any more than he could the moment they first met. As he started for the door she hopped to her feet and seized his wrist, just as a swell of shame and embarrassment was searing into his heart. He swallowed again, but it didn't help the burning tightness in his throat. "Sorry," he mumbled.

He was sorry he had put her in this uncomfortable position. He was sorry he had let his heart get away from him. And...

And he was sorry that what he felt for her wasn't enough.

He gasped slightly as Bevra suddenly locked her arms around him; she rested her head against the back of his neck. "Don't you be sorry," she murmured, her voice slightly muffled. "Don't you dare be sorry."

Her hand moved against his chest, pressing over the spot where his heart was thumping soundly. He knew she could feel the emotion that was burning through his veins, and he hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears of shame stung the insides of his lids.

"Yes," she whispered. "I know. I know that you love me. But there's something _you_ don't know."

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and Rimfire let her turn him around; she cupped his face. Her amber eyes were bright as they met his. "I love you more."

* * *

The two of them were sitting on the sofa when the message came. Well, sort of sitting. Mostly leaning back against one arm, wrapped in a tight embrace as they exchanged soft, shy kisses. It wasn't like the burst of passion they experienced in the pool, and it was all the sweeter for it. Rimfire let his emotions hum through him freely as he held her to him, willing her to feel what he felt for her through his touch.

He only hoped what he felt was enough. He hoped that _he_ was enough.

For a moment he forgot everything--forgot about Mars, his uncle, why he had come here in the first place. All that existed to him right now was the one he held in his arms, as tenderly as he could. And then a loud beeping interrupted.

Bevra pulled away with a start, blinking her eyes like she, too, had forgotten everything--including herself. Her reluctance to pull away was plain, but pull away she did, her fingers clinging to his for as long as they could before distance drew them apart. Sighing, she went over to a counter with a potted plant on it and looked down at a computer screen built into the glass counter top. 

When she stepped back, he knew what was happening before she fully turned around and looked at him again; the way she suddenly held herself said it all. Duty called, and she was back to being a general again. "There was another attack on the surface," she reported, as she walked briskly over and snatched up her jacket.

After she tugged her jacket and boots back on, she looked over at him, her expression suddenly softening. Rimfire felt his heart lift; the look in her eyes as she gazed at him could only be described as loving. It was a wonderful, wonderful sight.

"I don't know how long I'll be," she said softly, with a faint, uncertain smile. "Would you mind waiting here for me?"

Would he mind? He would wait anywhere she asked, and for any length of time. But he kept his response casual, smiling and saying, "Sure."

Her own smile grew in return, full of warmth and affection. She drew closer and touched her hand to his face, then pulled away and hurried out of the apartment. Rimfire made himself comfortable and settled down to wait, but as the minutes ticked by he grew a little restless, and he eventually got up to pace, but he didn't poke around, or look into the other rooms. It was rude to be nosy.

About half an hour or so passed, and he spent the time alternating between sitting and pacing--and then the communicator on his wrist suddenly beeped. Surprised, he pressed a button and spoke into the mouthpiece. "Bev?"

"Who else? Listen, I don't want to alarm you, but...I'm here at the hospital, and your uncle is here, too."

Rimfire blinked. "Visiting?"

"No: he's a patient. He was up on the surface and he wound up taking a hit from one of the shifters."

"Oh."

Wait, Uncle Modo was hurt? Rimfire was up and running for the door before his next question was out. "Is it bad? Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine. He's out cold right now, but I thought maybe you'd like to see him."

Of course he did. He'd barely seen or spoken to him since the day he first set foot in the city, and a sense of guilt settled over him as he ran for the hospital. He had no idea his uncle was taking trips to the surface--he had no idea what his uncle had been up to since they arrived here, period. Only, he realized with a fluttering in his heart, that door swung both ways. What would his uncle have to say when he found out how close he and Bevra had grown?

He pushed this thought aside for now; they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. He continued to run and soon reached the hospital, where Bevra was waiting for him on the front walk. She took him up to a room on the second floor, then quietly waited in the doorway while he went in.

The sterile room was quiet--peaceful, but Rimfire felt his worry rise as he went over and looked down at his uncle lying in the bed. The sheets were pulled up high, leaving only his head exposed; his eye was closed. Swallowing, Rimfire leaned down and rested a hand on his uncle's shoulder. "Hey," he said quietly. "You're going to be okay, right?"

Uncle Modo stirred slightly and mumbled something--and then his mouth popped open a little. A long, rumbling snore filled the room for a moment, making the bed vibrate.

Laughing softly, Rimfire straightened up again; he was fine. Smiling in relief, he turned around--and felt his smile fade. Bevra was watching him, arms folded, with the strangest look on her face. "Something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head slightly. "Nothing. Come back with me?"

He nodded, and they left the hospital and returned to her apartment. As soon as the door closed, Rimfire heard a click behind him as Bevra locked it. His heart flip-flopped.

Before he had a chance to turn around, Bevra had wrapped her arms around him from behind, her head resting on his shoulder. The warm touch of her breath ruffled the fur on his neck. "What is it about you?" she asked, her voice soft and low.

Rimfire wondered that himself. His uncertainty must have been strong enough for her to pick up on, because she chuckled softly as she turned him around to face her. "I think," she said, in that same low voice as she cupped his face in her hands and coaxed him forward until their foreheads brushed together, "that even after all you've been through, there's something about you that seems so...untouched."

The possible implications behind this statement made him squirm. "You mean, how I'm still a..."

She chuckled again. "I mean how even though you've lived through war, it hasn't left as big of a mark as it could have. Somehow, you still feel innocent, deep down. Pure."

Naive, he added silently. He never thought he'd feel glad over someone mentioning how young he still was. If this was how he looked through her eyes, then he wasn't about to complain. He knew she could peer deep inside him and see everything, uncover all his secrets...and he knew he could do the same with her, if he really wanted to. He was curious just how much she felt for him, the level of emotion that she didn't allow to show, but he wasn't going to look. That wasn't something he would feel comfortable doing without her permission, and he wasn't going to break the moment just to ask for it. There would be time for that later.

Bevra was pulling him closer, coiling her arms around him as she nuzzled his face. "It's like I can't get enough of you," she whispered. "Like every second that passes I want you more and more. I want to take you and wrap myself up in you and never break free. I want to lose myself to you completely."

As she spoke--in such a breathless, hushed way--her mouth brushed across his, their breaths mingling. Rimfire put his arms around her and held her tightly as he brushed his cheek over hers; she tilted her head back slightly, urging him to continue. He obeyed, running his nose softly down the curve of her throat, then pressed a soft kiss to her warm skin. She moaned quietly in response.

"I want you forever," she whispered. Her tone had taken on an almost desperate sound. Pleading with him. "I want to be part of you. I want you to be part of me."

Knowing what she meant, Rimfire lifted his head and looked at her, his heart thumping wildly. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Of course I'm sure. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone again--I never dreamed I could feel like this again. I don't ever want to give you up. I can't."

"But..."

He absently drew his hands down her back as he thought about it--this monumental step that could never be taken back. Was he ready for this? And more importantly...was she?

"Is it even possible?" he asked, as gently and politely as he could. "I know we're able to feel for each other, but...is that enough for us to be together?"

Her eyes burned into his as she touched his face again. "It must be," she whispered. "It's never been proven, but all the doctors who have studied our genetics believe that it's completely possible for someone to take another mate. "

"Only...no one ever has?"

"No one has ever lived long enough to try. I'm far from the only one to lose their mate to this war, but I _was_ the first. And I'm one of the only ones to still be living thirty years later--the others either died from shock or in combat. Maybe," she murmured, brushing her thumb across his cheek, "thirty years is long enough."

She pressed closer and kissed him, and Rimfire tightened his arms around her in return. "It has to be," she whispered between kisses. "If my body still belonged to Ian, I couldn't be this close to you."

She kissed him deeply for a long moment, then buried her face against his throat and drew in her breath, pulling in his scent. "I want to belong to you now. I want you to belong to me. I want to be yours. Make me yours."

Rimfire's heart was pounding harder than ever, and he felt dizzy and breathless as she kissed him again--kissed him with what he knew had to be her most raw, unbridled passion. Her lips and tongue were searching his mouth so hard it almost hurt, and her hands were everywhere; under his vest, his shirt, over his thighs, his rear, his tail, stroking and squeezing. It made his head swim and when she suddenly took a step back, he wound up stumbling forward; her back ended up hitting the locked door, but she didn't seem to care. She just clung to him all the tighter, crushing him against her as her kisses grew even more frantic, more heated.

Okay, he was convinced: she was ready for this. But was he? Was he ready to belong to another person, to be physically bound together this way?

But that bond wouldn't run as deep for him as it would for her. Hers was a race where infidelity was something they could only hear about--not that he would ever even dream of being unfaithful. Never. But that insecurity had to be there, that knowledge that it was possible for him while impossible for her, and he felt certain that this was another reason, aside from limited contact, why Imeerans had never mated outside the species before. No doubt, the concept of mating with someone who wouldn't be physically bound to them in the same way took a tremendous amount of trust.

It took him a moment, but he managed to unwind himself from her arms and gently nudge her far enough away that their mouths broke apart. Panting, he looked her in the eyes for a moment. Yes, there was trust there. Complete and total trust; she was ready to trust him with everything--both her body and her mind. She wanted to belong to someone again, to share her life and everything within it.

But more than anything, she wanted her loneliness to end. She was hiding this feeling well and probably didn't realize that he could tell just how lonely she was, but he could. And would someone else be able to see that, he wondered? He hadn't forgotten her mentioning that her daughter wasn't afraid to be herself, all but lamenting that she wasn't able to do the same. Would someone else be able to see the parts of her she kept hidden?

He didn't really think so. Everyone else was too afraid to look that close. They all ducked their heads or looked away when she was around, reacting with all the fear and reverence you would a tyrant...but she was anything but. He was able to see beyond the iciness she placed on the surface, see the warmth and the uncertainty that lay underneath. He didn't think there was anyone out there willing to look that closely, let alone see.

It was a thought that washed away his fears until only the love he felt for her remained. And that love was enough. And maybe, he thought distantly as he pulled her close again, only this love-- _his_ love--would ever be enough. No one else could ever step into the place he was now. It was meant for him and him alone.

Bevra must have sensed this acceptance in him, because her attentions resumed with renewed vigor. She shrugged her jacket off and let it drop to the floor as she wrapped her bare arms around him. Her mouth was hungry as it met his, her normally white lips flushed pink. She was wearing a brief red top made of silk, tied in place by thin cords at the small of her back and behind her neck, leaving her back bare. He ran his fingers over her hair and down her exposed skin, which felt almost hot to the touch.

She made a purring sound low in her throat, and the skin on her shoulders prickled. Apparently, she liked how the soft, thin fur on his fingers felt. Encouraged, Rimfire drew his hands up her back again, stroking his fingers along the back of her neck. Bevra responded by yanking off his vest and tossing it aside, then gripped his shoulders and pushed him back.

Their feet fumbled together as their hands continued to roam each other, and when the edge of the sofa bumped the back of his legs Rimfire wobbled and fell back into a sitting position; Bevra promptly straddled his lap and cupped his face, her mouth never leaving his. "Keep going," she whispered against his lips.

Her voice was full of desperate pleading again. Underneath the heat in his skin and the mad pounding of his heart, Rimfire was a bundle of nerves again. He'd never been this close to someone before and wasn't sure how to proceed, but Bevra urged him on with confidence he was lacking, whispering for him to continue between kisses, coaxing him to touch her more.

Her skin was so warm it was almost flushed beneath the pure white of it, pushing away the image that her body was made of snow. She was much too hot now to be compared to something so cold, and the heat of her skin radiated through her thin shirt. Still feeling uncertain of himself, Rimfire continued to move slowly, gently kissing her face and throat as he drew his hands up and down her bare arms. Grunting like she was frustrated--impatient--Bevra suddenly arched her torso against him, all but crushing their pelvises together.

"Take it easy," Rimfire gasped, as soon as his heart was out of his throat and back down in his chest again. "There's no reason to rush."

"I don't want to take my time," Bevra responded firmly, before leaning forward and nipping the side of his neck through his fur. "No one's touched me for almost thirty years. I've waited long enough for this."

Rimfire's head swam as she kissed him again, so forcefully it left him breathless and lightheaded; it was like she was afraid to slow down for a second. And as her hands continued to roam over him without pausing for an instant, her heart pounding so hard it reverberated through his rib cage, Rimfire realized that she really _was_ afraid.

Did she feel guilty over being so close to someone else after all these years? Did she think that if she paused for a second, one of them might change their mind? Was she worried that he, inexperienced as he was, would be horrible at this?

He had to admit, that last one was working on his own mind right now, but he wasn't sure what was prodding Bevra to move at such breakneck speed. Abruptly she moved away from his mouth and, panting, sat up straighter and reached up to untie the cords at the back of her neck. Rimfire drew in his breath sharply, not sure he was ready for that yet--but she had untied her shirt and pushed it down to her waist before he could so much as gather his thoughts.

After that, it felt like coherent thought abandoned him. Hands resting on her hips, all he could do was stare as she laid her hands on his shoulders and arched her torso again, bringing her exposed flesh even closer to him. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. "Kiss me," she begged.

She didn't sound like herself anymore. Her voice was high with desire and emotion--and something he couldn't even name. She was pulling in air with deep, uneven gulps, and her hands shook as she moved them from his shoulders and cupped the back of his head. Unsteady as they were, they were still impossibly strong as she coaxed him forward, all but pressing his mouth to the bare skin of her chest. "Please."

Rimfire couldn't have been more nervous if he tried. He felt awkward--and acutely aware of his teeth, jutting out like they did. The last thing he wanted to do was fumble and accidentally scratch her beautiful skin, which wasn't something you had to worry about when your partner was protected by a layer of fur. But he obeyed her breathless command and, as carefully and softly as he could, pressed a warm kiss to the tender, full curve of her breast.

She responded with a shuddering breath, her fingers curling into his hair, pulling it a little. "More," she pleaded.

He did what he was told, but as he continued to kiss along her smooth, perfect skin, he would swear that she didn't actually want him to continue. She responded each time his lips touched her, her body squirming, her breath hitching slightly. But still her hands held him in place, silently urging him to keep going, and so he did, his confidence gradually increasing. He slowly moved his hands from her hips to her waist, sliding his fingers up the silky skin of her torso.

When she didn't squirm or pull away, his confidence went up another notch and he drifted his hands higher, until he was gently cupping her breasts. He was amazed by how soft she felt, how her skin glistened like satin and was just as smooth, yet at the same time her muscles were like stone underneath. He suddenly felt like he was realizing all over again just what an amazing creature she really was.

The sudden burst of love he felt for her whisked away the last of his insecurity...almost. He felt bold enough now to kiss her a little more firmly, and then, hoping it wasn't too bold, he drifted his mouth a little lower and pressed it to the firm, waiting flesh of her nipple.

Bevra responded by drawing in her breath sharply, her body stiffening a little. Hoping her reaction meant what he was doing felt good, Rimfire kissed her again, then opened his mouth a little and gently pushed with his tongue.

Bevra responded again--and this time it definitely wasn't in a positive way. With a strange sound, she suddenly wrenched out of his grasp and almost fell over as she fumbled to get up. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink and her breath was uneven and moist-sounding, and her sides heaved as she doubled over and clamped a hand to her stomach--like she was about to be sick.

Rimfire felt his excitement plummet and guilt settle over him as she pressed her other hand over her mouth and squeezed her moistening eyes shut, as if she was ready to cry. "I-I'm sorry," he faltered. "I didn't mean--"

"It's not your fault," she told him sharply. Swallowing thickly, Bevra shook her head and didn't open her eyes. "I wanted this to happen so badly," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I really tried, and I love you so much, but..."

With a shaky sigh, she straightened slowly and rubbed her eyes. "But all I keep thinking about is..."

She trailed off, and a heavy silence fell over the apartment. Rimfire wanted to get up, to reach out and hold her, but he wasn't sure if he should, so he continued to sit, fidgeting awkwardly. All of a sudden, Bevra opened her eyes and tied her shirt in place again. Her expression had changed abruptly, looking stony and determined--like she had just come to a decision. "I have to do something," she said, sounding calmer now. "It shouldn't take long...could you wait?"

Rimfire nodded mechanically. "Of course."

He had no idea what was going on, or where Bevra was going as she ran out of the apartment, but he knew he wasn't going to move until she came back.

* * *

Rimfire honestly meant not to move, but Bev must have run into some kind of delay, because she was gone for several hours. He stayed sitting on the sofa for as long as he could stand it, but eventually he got up and started pacing. Anxious as he was, he really didn't want to leave the apartment, but as the minutes continued to tick by, he started to grow hungry.

He tried to ignore it, but after a while the hunger pangs and the noises his stomach was making kept getting worse. And waiting would only make him emptier, which would keep distracting him--probably even make him a little lightheaded. So, after debating and arguing with himself for a while, he finally left the apartment and scurried out to the city, running to the nearest restaurant and ordering something at random.

He wasn't sure what he ate, but it was delicious and filling, so after he was finished he hit the restroom and ran back to the residential area. If Bevra had come back during his absence and was waiting anxiously for him, he was going to kick himself.

He didn't have to worry. Everything was silent when he got back, and he paced around the empty apartment for another hour or so before he finally heard footsteps out in the hall. His heart lifting, he hurried to the door--and stopped in surprise.

The door opened as he neared and Bevra all but stumbled inside, reaching back to slap a button to lock it again. She must have hit the wrong one, because as she stepped forward and rested her head on his chest, it stayed open. Rimfire wondered what had happened while she was gone; she was visibly fighting back the urge to cry, and she trembled as her fingers gripped the front of his shirt. "I'm a horrible mother," she mumbled.

Rimfire blinked in a surprise. He didn't know what she was talking about, but she didn't look at all like herself right now. She looked worn out, defeated. Ready to collapse. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "If you want to forget about this..."

Her body went stiff and her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock--and fear. "Just for now," he hastily added. "Just until you're feeling better. Really, there's no rush. I can wait."

Her amber eyes searched his face for a moment. She stood up straighter, her expression hardening a little. "Now is fine," she said, her tone firm...but it didn't sound like it was him she was trying to convince. "My little problem is fixed. We shouldn't have any more trouble."

She reached down to take his hand; Rimfire quickly grabbed hers, trapping her fingers between his as he brought them to his lips. He understood now. She had spent so long being the strong one, she didn't know how to let herself be weak, even when she needed to be. He wanted to tell her that it was okay for her to be fragile and vulnerable once in a while. He would be strong for her, here for her whenever she needed to lean on him.

As he gathered her in his arms and held her close, he felt the last of his insecurity and hesitation fade away. She needed him, even if she didn't realize how much. And he needed to be the one to hold her, needed to be her pillar of strength when her own strength failed. And she needed to know it was okay to let it.

He held her wordlessly for a long moment, then cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. "I can wait," he said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. We have our whole lives to be together."

Looking surprised, Bevra opened her mouth to protest--he silenced her with a gentle finger, then, in a move that made her let out a small gasp, he scooped her up in his arms. "Bedroom?" he queried, casual in response to her astonished expression.

She pointed wordlessly, and he crossed the apartment and entered the equally white, frosty room. After laying her on the bed, he took a moment to pull off his boots, followed by hers, then made himself comfortable on the mattress.

And then he just held her. Held her close and tight and softly stroked her hair, hoping she could feel through his touch how much he loved her, how he wanted to take care of her. He wasn't sure how long they lay there in silence, or when they both drifted off to sleep. When a beeping sound suddenly woke him, Rimfire hastily slipped out of bed and hurried out to the living room. Bevra went on dreaming, so he checked the monitor for her, in case it was important--and stared at what he read in shock.

She had retired. She had given up her position and promoted Tamerin in her place. And he knew this abrupt decision had only been for one reason: for him. She had given up her leadership, her one goal in life, just for him. He had become her new reason to live.

Blinking back tears, he hurried back to the bedroom. As he lay back down beside her, her eyes slowly opened. She blinked at him for a moment, like she wasn't sure if she was really awake, or if he was part of a dream. He gently rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed her for a moment. When they parted again, she smiled faintly. "Are you ready now?"

"Are you?" he asked seriously.

Surprise flickered through her eyes for a moment, but she pushed it back hastily. She was so used to hiding things, to burying her true self...he hoped it wouldn't take long for her to realize she didn't need to hide anymore. Not around him.

And then she snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him again, and Rimfire let his thoughts ease from his mind as they drew closer to each other...and it wasn't until a time that felt both like an eternity and a moment that was far too brief had passed did they finally separate again. But as they clung to each other and faded into sleep together, Rimfire felt a sense of having been changed--of being made whole. From now on, no matter how far apart their bodies were...they were as one.

* * *

It was the strangest sensation that suddenly broke into his dreams and made his eyes flicker open. It was like a dam bursting and a flood of emotions rushing out, spilling through his veins and into his heart--a dam that had burst outside of his body, filling him with emotions that didn't belong to him. He felt fear and uncertainty and love and excitement covered by more fear--and pain.

Rimfire was so confused he sat up and rubbed his eyes for a moment, blinking around him as he wondered if he was actually still asleep. He eventually looked down and saw that Bevra was still curled up beside him, her head tucked up against the pillow and the blanket pulled to her chin. She had her hand covering her face, and she was trembling.

And suddenly he understood. He didn't really know how, but he knew where the emotions he was feeling were coming from--and judging by the way they seemed to hum from the tips of his antennas before he fully felt them inside, he had figured out how those emotions were reaching him. And they kept coming. She was afraid--so very afraid. She was afraid to love him as much as she knew she could, afraid that she was going to lose him, afraid that it was all going to work out and she would only be happy from now on. After being like ice for so long, she wasn't sure she knew how to be happy again.

She was panicking. She wasn't sure if what she had done was the right thing--for him. She wasn't sure if she was enough for him, or if she could keep him happy. And more than anything she just wanted to break down and cry.

He wondered how long it had been since she let herself give in to tears. Probably not in many, many years. And he would have never known any of this just by looking at her; aside from the faint trembling, none of what was raging inside her showed on the outside. It made his heart ache for her, knowing that this had to be far from the first time her surface remained smooth and perfect while a storm raged underneath.

As gently as he could, Rimfire took hold of her hand, kissed it tenderly, then laid his hand on her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "Go ahead," he urged quietly as she lifted her eyes and looked at him. "Let it all out if you need to. No one's looking but me. And if you want me to hold you while you cry, I promise I won't let go until you're ready to stop."

Bevra was so surprised she sat up to gape at him. "How..."

She didn't bother to cover herself as she continued to gawk, but...he didn't mind. After what they had just shared, and with what was happening between them now, he wasn't going to bother feeling embarrassed by her being exposed to him anymore. There were no more secrets between them. But he soon realized that the very same thought that was comforting to him was frightening to her.

"Did you...know what I was thinking? How?"

Rimfire smiled softly and wordlessly pointed a finger at his antennas. She blinked at them for a moment, looking dazed. "Have they always been able to do that?"

"Not without touching. Not until now, that is."

Still smiling, he reached over and caressed her cheek again. "I guess having you for a mate makes me new and improved, huh? We're part of each other forever."

Her realization and understanding rippled through him, humming like an electric charge. Following it was a sense of horror, which showed on her face; she'd spent so long keeping her feelings buried and out of sight, the thought that he could feel what was inside of her at all times, no matter what she showed on the surface, and even if they weren't touching...

He quickly scooted closer and wrapped her tightly in his arms. "It's okay," he told her firmly. "You don't ever have to hide from me. I don't care that you aren't as strong as you try to appear. I'd never expect you to be. You've been the rock around here for long enough--go ahead and crumble for once. I'm here for you, and I'll be strong for you for as long as you need me to be. I'll always be here for you."

As he spoke, he pushed her hair back from her face, which was still full of disbelief. After thinking about it for a moment, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, letting his antennas touch her skin. Just in case she wasn't already feeling what was inside him clearly enough through her hands, he let every last bit of emotion he had inside him flood into her, willing her to feel the full power of his love for her.

She burst into tears. The barriers she had built inside her and held in place for so many years finally broke, and all of the pain and loneliness and despair she had forced herself not to feel came crashing out. Rimfire held her tighter, and she clung to him in return, her tears soaking the fur on his chest. He gently stroked her hair and whispered loving words to her, reassuring her that everything was okay.

Underneath all the raw pain was a growing sense of wonder, of awe...and just a hint of joy. A fresh wave of sobs swept over her, and Rimfire tightened his arms again as she pressed her teary face to his shoulder. "I never thought I'd find someone like you," she whispered. "I never thought I could feel like this."

For a moment Rimfire assumed she meant she thought she'd never feel like this again...but that wasn't what she said, and as her wonder and joy mounted, he realized that wasn't what she meant.

It was a thought that sent a jolt of surprise through him. She'd told him about Ian, her first love, who she'd been with since she was only eighty years old. She had described him as brave and gentle, soft-spoken and efficient in everything he did. She spoke of him as an equal, but...seeing the truth that lay beneath the surface now, Rimfire realized that of the two of them, she had been the strong one. In all her years, she'd never had someone she could truly break down in front of, someone who could pick up her pieces when she fell apart.

She'd found something she'd never had in him, and he felt her love for him burn through her. Underneath her façade of ice and snow, her love scorched through her veins like flame. It warmed him to the core, and he smiled softly as he adjusted his hold on her, cradling her in his arms as her tears slowly lessened.

After a while they reduced to quiet sniffling, and she closed her eyes as she rested her cheek against his arm. His fur was damp and matted in several places, but...he didn't really care. In fact, he couldn't have been happier. He knew it wasn't going to happen overnight, but with time and a lot of love, he knew that one day the joy he felt inside of her would overpower the pain. If it were up to him, she would never feel anything but happiness for the rest of her life.

This desire must have reached her, because she suddenly smiled, just before she drifted off to sleep. He eventually laid her down carefully and joined her, and when they woke up again later, they got dressed and went to find something to eat in the kitchen.

Neither of them said very much. They didn't really need to; their feelings, so flush and full as they basked in their new life together, resonated in each other with each passing moment. Rimfire was content not to talk and just feel everything, which was going to take a while to get used to. Bevra was still getting used to the idea of not having anywhere to hide anymore. She spoke once, mentioning that they wouldn't be able to feel each other if they were too far apart.

Rimfire didn't respond, instead thinking to himself that he'd be happy to give her space whenever she felt like she needed it. This must have gotten through to her, because she suddenly turned to him, rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. And that was when the console in the living room beeped.

Annoyed to have their quiet moment interrupted, Bevra hurried over to check the screen. Rimfire was just leaving the kitchen to join her when he felt a jolt of shock that almost knocked him off his feet. "What happened?" he asked fearfully.

Bevra had stepped back from the console and slumped against the back of the sofa. Her eyes were wide, and...well, he couldn't really tell if she'd gone pale. "She did it," she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Who did what?"

With a shaky laugh, Bevra rubbed a hand over her forehead. "My little girl. In less than a day of me putting her in charge, she ended the war. It's over."

Rimfire blinked in surprise. "Oh."

Well, that was certainly good news. News that was going to take a while to fully sink into his mate, who continued to lean against the sofa as she stared off into space. Inside, her emotions were running the gamut again. "After all the time I spent struggling, she finishes up in only a moment. What's that say about me?"

Rimfire thought this over for a moment. "You did a great job prepping the way for her?" he suggested.

She started to laugh, even as tears sprang to her eyes, and she moved forward to put her arms around him. "I love you," she sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Have I mentioned that yet?"

Rimfire just grinned as he held her. She was still in shock, but underneath it, she felt...light. Free. The last of her responsibility had finally been lifted from her, and she raised her eyes to his with a smile. "Guess I'm not needed here anymore. Let's move to Mars."

"You sure?" he wondered.

"Sure, I'm sure. I want to feel what it's like to live under the sun for a change. Would you rather move here?"

She already knew that he didn't, so he merely smiled, his voice teasing. "Well, I'm just a guard, so no one would really care if I suddenly quit and left."

His own words reminded him about the one who would actually care very much. Uncle Modo still didn't know anything about this, and Rimfire knew he was going to be shocked. Everyone would be.

The thought made him nervous...but at the same time, he felt proud as he gazed at the woman in his arms--and protective. She had been hurt enough, and nothing and no one was going to make her feel pain again, as long as he was able to stop it. Smiling softly, he smoothed her hair back from her face, then kissed her forehead; she responded by cupping his face and claiming his lips.

As their kisses rapidly turned heated, Rimfire broke away long enough at glance at the door, which was still standing open. Outside, he could hear the sound of joyous whooping in the distance. "Shouldn't we close the door?" he asked, as Bevra started pushing him back toward the bedroom.

"No need," she murmured, nuzzling the base of his throat. "Everybody's running out to celebrate."

Grinning suddenly, she reached up to trace her finger over the sensitive curve of his ear. "You up for a little celebrating of our own?" she asked slyly.

Rimfire pretended to think it over for a moment. He had a lot more to celebrate other than the war ending. He was still rejoicing in the love he felt for her, how she returned that love, and how they had each other to rely on for the rest of their lives. His thoughts were mirrored in the smile she gave him--just before she let out a startled yelp as he snagged his tail around her waist and hoisted her off her feet.

Rimfire grinned as he cradled her in his arms. "If you insist."


	5. Relax, Have Fun, And...If You Know What's Good For You, Duck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer is over and autumn is here, so that means it's time for the gang to head to Chicago for some Halloween fun. Takes place a few months after FMBH. Rated G.

"How come this one city has so many places to see?" Michio wondered.

"Culture," Tamerin responded simply.

Throttle hid a smile. She sounded pretty envious about it.

The eight of them had teleported to Earth a little while ago, and now the six of them were relaxing in the back of Charley's pickup while Charley drove, and Vector got to act as copilot. It would have been the nine of them, but Modo had decided that baby Ako was still too young to stay out late and had left him back on Mars with his mama. While the large gray mouse kicked back with his arm around Ashlin, Tamerin and Michio were busy combing over a map listing the city's most popular locations.

"Where are we going, anyway?" asked Michio, as he leaned over his adopted mother's arm and peered closer at the map.

"No idea," said Vinnie, with a pert frown. "Charley didn't tell me a thing."

Still frowning, he scooted over and pressed his nose against the back of the cab as he peered inside at the driver, but the sliding hatch in the middle of the rear windshield remained securely locked. "I don't get why she won't let me sit up front with her and Vector," he said, sitting back again and pouting like he was Michio's age. "I could help her navigate."

Both Throttle and Modo snickered. "I think you just answered your own question," Throttle informed him.

Vinnie continued to pout, while the rest of them settled down and enjoyed the ride. They could have transported to a spot closer to their destination, but Charley had opted to take a leisurely drive and let her passengers take in the sights instead. They were heading south on Lake Shore Drive, the light of the early evening sun glinting off Lake Michigan to their left. The late October air was warm and smelled like a unique blend of fragrances both from nature and from the city.

"Ever notice," Vinnie suddenly said, "how anytime a movie shows somebody driving into Chicago, they always take this road in even if they're coming from the west? Or better yet, from the east?"

"It's a geographical mystery," Throttle responded mildly.

"Always remember to take Hollywood with a grain of salt," Modo reminded him. "Make that heaps of salt."

Ashlin suddenly twisted around, her long fingers gripping the side of the truck as she leaned forward to peer closer at the water. "What are those?" she asked.

They were driving past the circular shape of Belmont Harbor, and she was pointing at the rows of boats lined up along the docks. Some were small and sleek and built for speed, while others sported tall masts and colorful sails. Modo blinked in surprise. "Just sailboats," he replied. With a smile, he ran a loving hand over the back of her head. "You guys catch a lot of fish back on Malteria. Don't you haul them up from a boat?"

"No," was Ashlin's response. "The ocean has poisons in it at the surface and the fish there aren't the greatest to eat. And even if we tried to catch the ones that live a little deeper, their meat would be contaminated as they were pulled out through the toxic water and into the toxic air."

Modo blinked again, clearly perplexed. "Then how do you catch them?"

"Underwater traps around the city, mostly."

"Oh."

Ashlin continued to look out at the water, her eyes full of fascination, but before long the harbor and its boats was out of sight. Tamerin rested back against the hard curve of the wheel well as she continued to pore over the map in her hands, the paper flapping in the wind. "As long as we're in the neighborhood, maybe we could stop at Lincoln Park Zoo," she suggested.

"Nah," said Michio. "Let's go to Brookfield. It's bigger."

"Maybe so, but I've been to Lincoln before. It's nice and has free admission."

But their destination remained a mystery to everyone except Charley, who drove on until they were out of Lincoln Park and heading past the Gold Coast. The day was wearing on and traffic was fairly thick, and more than once a head or two in a passing vehicle would turn and send a perplexed look their way. To their right, opposite the water, there were rows and rows of buildings in every shape and size, stretching off into the distance until they faded from sight, like they were merging with the blue of the sky. Thick glass windows reflected the world back like mirrors.

Michio suddenly turned away from the map, his short ears perking up as he craned his neck to see something in the distance. Throttle looked with him and saw a spoked shape looming ahead, like a white wheel rimmed with red that was rolling up into the clouds. "That's the Navy Pier Ferris wheel," Throttle explained to his adopted son. "One hundred and fifty dizzying feet of fun."

"Am I old enough to ride it?" Michio asked eagerly.

"I'm pretty sure all ages are allowed...as long as you have your parents' permission."

They both looked over at Tamerin with matching grins, but she was apparently absorbed in her map study and didn't look up. "I don't think Charley's stopping here."

Throttle's grin was replaced with a slight frown. His mate's face was mostly hidden by the map as she lifted it for a closer look, but he could have sworn he had just felt...something. It had ghosted through their bond so fast he couldn't be sure what it was, but he'd definitely felt it. Tamerin kept her eyes glued to the map for a long while after that, and she didn't put it down and lift her head until they were passing by Monroe Harbor. Ashlin leaned against the side of the truck for a closer look, the wind whipping through her long brown hair. Tamerin scooted closer and rested a hand on the slender Martian's back, watching the vast collection of speed boats and small yachts with her.

"The Museum Campus is just up ahead," she commented, turning to smile at Michio. "That's where the Field Museum is."

Michio perked up again, and Throttle smiled to himself. You wouldn't think so when you first met him, but the hyper little creature actually loved learning how things worked and was interested in anything remotely scientific.

"There's a planetarium over there, too," Tamerin added as she picked up the map again.

Modo suddenly smiled--a bit wryly, Throttle thought. "I've been to that area," he noted. "It's where the Shedd Aquarium is at."

The trio looking over the map lifted their heads and looked at him blankly in unison. "Uh, we've all basically spent our whole lives in a glorified fish bowl," Tamerin pointed out dryly.

"Yeah," Michio chimed in, nose wrinkled in distaste. "The last thing the three of us need to do is look at fish."

"Us three, too," Vinnie added dryly.

Modo smirked. "It was a joke."

Charley drove on, heading past the museums and the surrounding locations, before suddenly making a right turn several miles later. She cut through town at an angle, and at first Throttle enjoyed sitting back and watching some of their old haunts go by, but after a while it started to get pretty boring. They had been on the road for well over an hour now, and even though the bed of the truck was lined with blankets, he could tell they were all getting stiff by the way everyone started fidgeting. Well, everyone except Tamerin and Michio, who had put the map away and were snuggled close to each other. Throttle had to admit, the sight made him feel a little envious...and a little left out.

Even if Michio had decided that he must be okay, since bikers were usually 'cool,' the furry youth definitely spent more time around Tamerin than anyone else. Which Throttle couldn't really blame him for, since he'd waited and hoped for years for her to adopt him, but...sometimes he would watch how the little goat-like creature would cuddle his head on her arm, his eyes adoring, and couldn't help feeling just a hair jealous.

He was feeling a little like that now, and enough for Tamerin to notice, because she suddenly unwound her arm from Michio's shoulders and moved closer to her mate. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, her tone and expression wry.

Throttle merely shrugged and smiled. "Just wondering if you'd ever been out this far before."

Tamerin shook her head. "I was too busy shape-shifter hunting to do very much sightseeing."

Smiling, she scooted a little closer and rested her head on his shoulder. "This is your city, hot shot, so you tell me: where are we?"

Throttle nudged his specs up and looked around for a moment. They were well away from the towering cluster of buildings seen downtown, and the worn streets were lined with small homes and businesses, many of which had been open for decades and were considered local landmarks. "Harlem," he reported. "Heading into Burbank, actually."

Michio crawled over and rested his chin on the rim of the truck. "Are we going someplace fun?" he wondered, sounding as bored as Throttle felt.

"I'm not really sure," said Throttle.

Tamerin gently tugged her adopted son back by the hem of his shirt. "Don't lean like that," she chided. "If we hit a bump, you could chip a tooth."

Michio sat back with a huff...but then he looked up at Tamerin with a beaming smile. "I always knew you'd take me home someday," he said. "You've been yelling at me like you're my mommy for years."

"And now I really am," Tamerin added, putting an arm around him and kissing the top of his head, just in front of his stubby horns.

Just then the old truck made a sudden turn, pulling into a parking lot--that was so full, Throttle was amazed Charley was able to squeeze in. Vinnie sat up and stretched for a moment. "Where are we?" he asked, as his wife hopped out and rounded to the back of the truck.

Charley looked amused as she popped the tailgate. "It's Halloween night," she reminded him, sounding smug.

"Oh, so _that's_ why I'm in this costume," Vinnie mused, looking down at himself. "Does this mean we get to harass total strangers for candy?"

Ashlin bugged her eyes out. " _Please_ tell me we aren't actually going to let him stuff his face with sweets," she begged, shuddering. "He's hyper enough even without sugar."

While Vinnie pouted, Throttle and Modo cracked up. "I think she's on to you, bro," Modo noted, still laughing.

Charley was calmly straightening her and Vector's costumes, while Tamerin scratched her head, looking perplexed. "I'm not sure I understand this whole Halloween thing."

Throttle smiled discreetly. "I'll explain it to you again later. Right now, let's just figure out why we're at..." He looked around for a moment, then tilted his head back and squinted at the sign looming overhead. A green-faced ghoul grinned back at him. "Haunted Trails?"

Vinnie stared for a moment, then let out a groan. "Charley-girl, you brought us to a miniature golf course? Are you nuts?"

Tamerin looked perplexed again. "Golf comes in miniature? Huh."

Throttle snickered and adjusted his costume. "We're game, right, Modo?"

"You bet. Especially if Vinnie's not. Less competition."

"Hey, I can take you guys, easy," Vinnie retorted.

Tamerin and Michio were still looking around; their curious expressions matched. Aside from the golf course, there were other outdoor games to play, and several rides were running noisily...kiddie ones. A large, prominent building echoed with music, the jangle of scores tallying up, the clack of plastic buttons being pounded. "Couldn't we just go over to the arcade instead?" Tamerin wondered.

Snickering again, Throttle slid an arm around her waist and guided her across the lot to the front gate. "Don't worry, it takes less than five minutes to learn this game, and then you could play it in your sleep."

Shrugging, Tamerin let him lead her along behind Charley, who had taken up head of the group and guided them through the crowd to the front counter. Which was no easy or swift task; the place was packed from end to end, with everything from groups of families to rowdy teenagers goofing around while they waited in line. Throttle saw knights, zombies, princesses, fairies, angels, Grim Reapers, and a few things he couldn't identify. He didn't see anyone who wasn't in costume.

They had all changed before teleporting over here, and even though the trio from Malteria didn't fully understand the tradition, they had laughingly gone along with it. Well, Tamerin and Ashlin had. Michio had logically pointed out that no one except Charley really needed to wear anything special, since everyone would assume the rest of them were in costume anyway. Vinnie had argued that it was fun, but Michio stood firm, and went as his usual fuzzy self.

Tamerin, as she'd jokingly put it before they left, had played around with the fact that everyone liked to compare her skin tone to snow and dressed up like a ski bunny. She had on a snug sky blue ski suit that was decorated with a geometric pattern in black, white, and petal pink. There were white suede boots on her feet that were all but hidden beneath a pair of fuzzy white legwarmers that went almost to her knees, and a pair of matching arm warmers were on her arms, covering them from elbow to wrist. A fuzzy pink-and-blue headband that held back her waist-length hair completed the look.

Throttle had been in the mood for something different, so he'd taken a film noir route and donned a fedora and trench coat, worn over a plain brown suit with a black-and-brown striped tie. Modo had wanted to come in a tuxedo, but when Ashlin heard someone comment on how this made the ladies swoon, she promptly talked him out of it. After a bit of discussion, she'd then talked him into going as a pirate, and so he now wore a breezy white shirt, snug black pants and a pair of tall brown leather boots that folded down at the knee and had straps around the ankles.

"I still think this is too obvious," the large mouse grumbled, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye-patch.

Ashlin giggled and rested her head on his arm. "Don't pout, you look adorable."

Unconvinced, Modo tugged at the red-and-white striped bandana wrapped around his head, then glanced at the Martian still hanging on his arm. It didn't look like he knew what to make of Ashlin's costume. Throttle was pretty sure no one did.

The petite Martian was dressed head to toe in midnight black, and as they moved up the line, she reached back and tugged the hood that was hanging from the back of her shirt forward, until her entire head and face was covered, leaving only her eyes exposed. Except for the thick tail trailing behind her, you couldn't tell her from the humans milling around them, and with nothing but her dark eyes glinting through the slit in her black mask, she looked kind of sinister. Which was how Throttle assumed a ninja assassin was supposed to look.

The newlyweds had decided on a matching western theme, with Vinnie donning faded jeans, snakeskin boots, a denim shirt under a fringed suede jacket, and a stetson pulled down over his ears. Charley was dressed like a saloon girl--a look that managed to be both classy and sassy. Her dress was a dark, glossy blue, the long skirt almost brushing the ground as she walked. The upper portion was sleeveless and shaped sort of like a form-fitting tank top, the curve of the neckline just low enough to offer a hint of cleavage, which was mostly masked by the ripple of black lace that ran around the edges. More rows of lace bordered the hem of the skirt, and she wore matching black lace fingerless gloves, with a black velvet choker around her neck and black granny boots on her feet.

Her red-brown hair was still growing out, so she'd smoothed it back elegantly, then clipped on one of those fake ponytails. The curls bounced playfully every time she moved her head.

Vector, who was cuddled against his mother's shoulder, was too young to grasp the concept of dressing up, so he was merely borrowing Vinnie's bandana. He had been tickled pink when his father tied it around his neck earlier.

Despite the camouflage, the theme that ran through their group didn't go unnoticed. "What's with all the mice?" asked a teen boy who was standing in line ahead of them, his face painted to look like a skull.

Charley simply smiled and cuddled her son closer. "It's a family thing."

"I'm bored," Michio groaned, leaning against Tamerin's side. "When does this get good?"

"You mean miniature golf? When it's over," Vinnie quipped. Charley elbowed him, then pushed him into motion as the line moved again.

Finally, it was their turn at the counter. Paying admission and then picking out their clubs and color-coded golf balls was handled in a manner that was far from smooth and orderly. They argued over defects in the club handles, then argued over who was going to get which color, then argued over who was going to go first.

"I have an idea," Tamerin suddenly said, as Throttle was debating loudly with Vinnie and Modo over which method to use to decide turn order: rock, paper, scissors, or arm wrestling. "Let's try a process I used to use back when I was a kid. Everyone close your eyes and spin in a circle for a minute, then stop. Turn order is decided by whoever stops closest to facing north, and so on."

Throttle actually had no clue which way was north right now, but since no one had a better idea, everyone closed their eyes and started spinning. "I'm glad we didn't eat before we got here," Vinnie groaned.

Charley, who didn't want to make Vector dizzy, offered to go last and skipped the record-imitation. By the time Tamerin told them to stop, Throttle kind of wished that he had taken a pass, too. The world continued to spin for several long, stomach-turning moments after he opened his eyes, and when they finally focused again he saw that everyone was haphazardly facing a different direction.

He was even less sure about north than ever, but Tamerin promptly rattled off who was positioned where. Vinnie somehow wound up facing north-east and got to go third, Michio was turned just a hair farther and got second, while south and west-facing Modo and Ashlin ended up sixth and fourth, with Throttle between them. Tamerin, who had somehow stopped just a hair off north, got to go first...which made Throttle wonder if she secretly had a razor-sharp sense of direction. If that was the case, then he owed her a spanking later.

With the order finally decided, they all trooped to the first hole. The sun was setting, casting a reddish-gold light over the décor, which was a fun combination of whimsical and macabre. Classic movie monsters loomed around them, a haunted house stood in the distance, and there were rickety bridges strung over streams of bubbling water. Lights were lit below the surface, turning sections of the water ghoulish green or blood red...well, more like Kool-aid red. Eerie music came over loudspeakers positioned around the course, marked with foreboding sound effects like howling winds, creaking doors and frightened shrieks.

At least the atmosphere was kind of cool, even though there was nothing remotely cool or exciting about miniature golf. Which was the thought passing through Throttle's mind as Tamerin took her position with her hot pink golf ball--and drew her club back like she was ready to send the gaudy orb to the moon. "Don't," he cried.

Too late. Her swing struck home with a _crack_ , and the ball vanished from sight as it shot into the air like a rocket. Startled shrieks came from another part of the course, followed by the sound of bodies hitting the dirt. A moment or two later there was the crackle of glass shattering. 

"Oops," said Tamerin.

While Modo and Vinnie snorted on muffled laughter and Charley calmly went to fetch a fresh golf ball, Throttle went over and rested his hands on his mate's shoulders. "Tam, my dulcet darling," he sighed, "I told you: this is _miniature_ golf."

Tamerin blinked her blue eyes at him. "Is there a difference?"

"A huge one," Throttle explained, while his bros continued to snigger to each other. He shot them a scowl, then directed Tamerin's attention to the small hole less than five feet away. "All you need to do is putt," he explained. "No slicing, no driving...no breaking the sound barrier. Got it?"

Brow furrowing, Tamerin frowned as she gauged the distance between her and the hole. "Where's the challenge in that?" she wanted to know.

"It's not supposed to be painfully challenging," Throttle said, as Charley returned and passed him a new pink golf ball. "It's just supposed to be a way to waste an hour or so while enjoying whatever theme the course has."

"Oh. Well, could we go somewhere with a different theme, then? I'm thinking Tokyo and neon lights."

"Um...I don't think there's a course like that around here."

Throttle set the ball down on the warped rubber strip that served as the tee, then moved around behind Tamerin and reached to take hold of her hands, still wrapped around the handle of her club. He spent the next few minutes demonstrating the proper way to putt. "Do you get it now?" he asked, after she'd taken a few small practice swings.

"No," she said crisply, before resting back against his chest and nudging his arms tighter around her with a wry smile. "But I'm not complaining."

Behind them, Vinnie made a coughing sound. "Ease up, you two, this is a family place."

Throttle snorted. "You're one to talk."

He stepped back and folded his arms, watching as Tamerin finally took her turn. She tapped gently this time--too gently, and the gaudy ball barely edged forward before wobbling to a stop. Michio, who had been looking at the row of skulls mounted on top of the fence that surrounded this part of the course, gave a hop before placing his neon green golf ball down and whacking it toward the hole, which, as the very first challenge, had no curves, dips, or other obstructions in the way. His shot almost went in, but the ball curved stubbornly around the hole before stopping on the other side.

Michio thrust out his furry bottom lip. "Rats--no offense," he said, grinning sheepishly up at Ashlin, who ruffled the top of his head.

Vinnie started to take his turn, confidently tossing his bright red golf ball up and catching it before setting it on the tee, but then Vector, who rarely put up a fuss, suddenly starting squirming in Charley's arms with a pitiful whine. Vinnie immediately dropped his club, took his son from his wife and cradled him with cooing sounds. "Does my big boy want to play too?"

"They have junior-sized clubs, but I think even they'd be too big for him," Charley said doubtfully.

"That's okay," Vinnie said, as he set his diminutive son down and picked up his club again. "You can help Daddy play. We'll be a team, okay?"

Vector's unhappy expression evaporated instantly. "'Kay," he said brightly.

Vector wound up wedged between his father's legs and the club, which he 'helped' line up with the hole and continued to cling to as Vinnie swung. The shot didn't go anywhere near the hole, but Throttle was pretty sure they didn't care. While Ashlin took her turn, the two of them roamed around behind her, with Vinnie bent over and clutching both of Vector's little fists for balance. Tamerin suddenly let out a groan and took off, chasing after Michio, who had climbed over the fence while they weren't looking and was trying to balance around the cement rim of a pool of bubbling water.

After Ashlin was finished (her ball wound up right next to Michio's) and Throttle stepped up, Charley noted wryly, "I think this is rapidly turning into a fiasco."

"Hey, it was your idea to come here, Sweetheart," Vinnie reminded her with a smirk.

Throttle was quiet as he pushed his specs up and rested them on the brim of his fedora, his eyes focused on the growing cluster of golf balls around the hole. He thought he could easily get in on the side opposite of Michio and Ashlin's, but he hit too hard and his orange (it was the only color left) ball bounced off the back rim and clinked against Ashlin's black one. He stepped back with a sigh, while Tamerin came hopping back over the short fence, with Michio tucked under her arm.

"No wandering off," she scolded as she put him down.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do while I'm doing all this waiting?" the goat-like creature wanted to know.

Modo calmly stepped up and took his turn, following the same strategy Throttle had tried for--except his yellow golf ball teetered right on the edge of the hole and stayed there. Looking smug, he went to stand next to Ashlin, who silently awarded him with a thumbs up.

"You're up, Charley-girl," Vinnie said slyly.

Lifting the hem of her skirt with one hand, Charley stepped primly up to the tee, placed her dark blue ball--and smoothly scored a hole-in-one.

While the rest of them stared in mute surprise, Vinnie shot her a suspicious look. "You've played here before, haven't you," he accused.

"Once or twice."

With a prim little hop--and an undeniably smug smile--Charley moved up onto the path with a clack of her granny boots and watched while the rest of them finished up. The Martians and Michio managed to sink their shots on the second turn without any trouble...but it took Tamerin another three tries before her hot pink ball finally settled into the hole with a clatter.

"Scoring in this game is tallied by whoever has the least amount of strokes by the end, isn't it?" the Imeeran asked as she retrieved her ball and joined the rest of them at the next hole.

"I'm afraid so," Throttle told her.

With a pert frown, she took her next turn--and sent her ball clear into the bushes. Muttering under her breath, she scurried to retrieve it, while the rest of them snickered to themselves, including Throttle--until he caught Michio wandering off again. "That's not for playing with," he scolded, as he hurried to pull the hyper youth away from the zombie head he had been trying to tug out of the ground.

"I just wanted to see if there was any more to him," Michio said, pouting.

"You're only supposed to look," Throttle informed him.

"Well, _that's_ no fun..."

Neither was waiting for his adopted mother to take her turn, but she finally retrieved her golf ball from the roots of a bush and started over again. This time she hit too softly and wound up at the bottom of a slope in the ground, and Michio skipped to take his turn, again winding up in a position that all but guaranteed he would sink it next time.

Throttle was busy watching in amusement as Tamerin pouted and didn't notice until Michio scurried by carrying Vector that Vinnie wasn't coming to take his turn. Throttle turned to look for him--and let out a scoff of annoyance. "What was that someone said earlier about this being a family place?" he asked caustically.

Vinnie, who was standing under a light post with a skeleton strapped to it, completely ignored him and continued to inspect his wife's tonsils. Throttle didn't think that he or Modo would have really minded, if they had been able to have a little fun of their own, but Tamerin was too focused on the game to pay attention to her mate, even though he was trying every suave, trench coat-appropriate pose he knew, and Ashlin was too deep in character and refused to take her hood off, or even speak.

"Are those shuriken tied to your pants?" Tamerin asked when the small Martian stepped up to take her turn--after Vinnie finally tore himself away from Charley long enough to take his own turn.

Ashlin responded by landing a hole-in-one and stepping aside with a stiff bow. "Showoff," Michio muttered.

By the time they reached the third hole, the sun had finished setting and darkness had fallen, and cloud-like wisps of white started to creep over the ground and decorations as the fog machines were turned on, adding to the festively spooky environment. Michio, who continued to have more fun trying to play with the decorations than the game itself, skipped across a footbridge to a hole that involved getting the ball through a small arch--that had rows of mechanical, rubbery ghoul hands raising and lowering on wires, like they were angrily slapping the ground. It sounded like they were groaning...but that was probably just the old gears straining.

Tamerin succeeded in timing her shot and easily hit her ball past them--but she hit too hard and her ball bounced out of bounds and into the water. "Next time we should play baseball," she muttered, as she stomped to fish her ball out to the sound of poorly muffled laughter. "Because then people cheer instead of cackle at you when you knock the ball out of the park."

Still muttering to herself, she dried her dripping golf ball off and went back to the tee. Michio was taking his sweet time with his turn; he had gotten down on his belly and was watching the slapping hands closely, trying to line up the angle of the hole on the other side with his club. Vinnie started noisily tapping his boot in impatience as he waited, but Michio ignored him and took his time positioning his ball on the tee. One firm swing later, he had a hole-in-one.

"I've got this game down," he said proudly, as he scurried to retrieve his ball.

Vinnie snorted, acting unimpressed. "Don't be too proud. It's just miniature golf."

Charley poked him with a smirk. "Right, like you wouldn't be gloating your head off if the two of us weren't whipping you like we are."

Vinnie stuck out his tongue and went to set up his next shot--by himself this time, since Vector didn't look like he knew what to make of the groaning hands and was watching warily from behind Charley's skirt. Vinnie did his best to line his shot up, but his timing was off and his ball ended up bouncing off one of the rubber hands and rolling back past the tee.

The rest of them made it through the arch safely and within another turn or two they joined Michio over at the next hole...but both Tamerin and Vinnie were still stuck on the wrong side of the hands. Tamerin tried for a fourth time and it almost looked like she would make it, but at the last second a hand snagged her ball with its fingertips and sent it rolling back the other way. Vinnie let out a frustrated growl and adjusted his stetson. "Come on, you dirty hands," he grumbled, "stop grabbing our..."

He trailed off, nose wrinkling. "On second thought, I don't think I'll finish that particular sentence."

"Wise, Vinnie," said Charley dryly as she stroked behind their son's ears. "Very wise."

Tamerin mutely took her next few turns, then called it quits when she finally exhausted her stroke limit, but Vinnie stubbornly kept at it as a line grew at the tee behind him and young ghouls and witches groused at him to hurry up already. Throttle lost count how many times Vinnie swung before the bright red ball finally clunked into the hole, but everyone was so happy he was finally finished no one really cared.

The next hole was up a set of wooden steps, where the haunted house Throttle had seen earlier sat. The house itself operated as an obstacle, which required the players to first hit their ball through one of three slots that ran through its wooden base, where it would then roll down a ramp hidden under the rickety-looking house and hopefully wind up somewhere close to the hole, which was down on a level below. Michio, who indeed seemed to 'have this game down,' sent his shot squarely through the center slot, where it rolled noisily down the ramp before emerging from a hole in the concrete wall below and rolling to a stop annoyingly close to its goal, a feat that Charley duplicated when her turn came up. The rest of them managed to knock their golf balls through one of the slots at random and wound up haphazardly spread around the level below--except for Tamerin, who wound up bouncing her ball off the haunted house's front door.

"Well, it's official," she muttered. "I hate miniature golf."

"Awww, is my little snow bunny not having any fun?" Throttle teased. "Does she need me to kiss her and make it all better?"

"No," his mate groused, shoving his approaching nose away with her index finger. "That'd break my concentration. Scoot."

"Well, there goes _my_ lone element of fun..."

It was a while before she joined them below, which had more curves and dips than earlier holes, plus a few strategically placed cement blocks. Despite the more complex obstacles, both Charley and Michio finished up on their second turn. "You know, that's _really_ getting annoying," Vinnie grumbled, pouting.

"Now, now," Charley said sweetly, putting her hands on her husband's shoulders and kissing his nose, "you need to be a good sport and set a good example for our impressionable little son."

"But it's not fair," Vinnie whined. "You have home-field advantage."

"I don't," Michio pointed out smugly. "So, what's your excuse going to be when I whoop your sorry butt?"

"Hey--you're asking for it, squirt."

"Bring it on, squeaks."

"Uh, I wouldn't work too hard on meeting this particular challenge, Vincent," Throttle advised as the two white-furred beings glared at each other--Vinnie with a scowl and Michio with a cheeky grin.

"Why not?" Vinnie wondered, still scowling.

"Well, if he really beats you, do you have any idea how embarrassing that's going to be?"

Throttle looked over at Modo, expecting him to add something, but the gray mouse remained silent as he stood beside Ashlin. Apparently, if she didn't have much to say tonight, then neither did he. Throttle wistfully wished that he and Tamerin were that in sync right now, but she remained absorbed in the game as they worked their way down the course, which curved around to the front near the wrought iron fence--one of the last holes. Thank goodness.

Miniature golfing was definitely more entertaining for the younger set, as shown in how much more amused both Michio and Vector looked by the giant Frankenstein monster they had to putt around than the rest of them were. Throttle covered a yawn and leaned against one of the sturdy legs, while Michio wiggled his rear end and lined up his shot, which had to pass between the classic figure's feet. "I don't get why people call _him_ Frankenstein," the little goat-creature suddenly commented tersely. "That was Victor's last name, not the name he gave his creation."

Throttle gave him a funny look. "The doctor's first name was Henry."

"Nuh-uh. His name was Victor. Henry was his assistant."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure his assistant was Igor, and--"

Michio let out a dramatic groan and slapped a hand to his forehead. "There was never any Igor!"

Throttle frowned in puzzlement. "Sure there was. In the movie--"

Michio cut him off with another groan. "I'm not talking about the _movie_ , you illiterate dork, I'm talking about the _book_."

Throttle opened his mouth...then closed it with another frown. Sighing, he pulled his fedora off and rubbed his forehead. "Was I just schooled by a ten-year-old?" he asked wearily.

Tamerin patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Don't feel bad. It happens to me all the time."

Michio flashed him a smug smile before taking his shot--which hit home as usual--and skipping on ahead. Fortunately, the game wrapped up a few holes later...though none of their turns were very short. "I'm hungry," Vinnie complained, as Charley took a moment to tally the final scores. "Let's blow this place and grab some hot dogs."

"You can't run away yet," Michio said smugly. "I want to know how badly I whooped ya."

But miraculously, Vinnie had pulled ahead in the last few holes and wound up only a few points behind him. Michio and Charley stayed almost neck-and-neck the entire time, but in the end she was firmly in first place. Throttle had to settle for fourth (behind Vinnie, how the heck did _that_ happen?) while Modo and Ashlin, perfectly in sync to the last, tied for fifth...while Tamerin was so dead-last, she might as well hop into one of the display coffins.

"Might as well face it, Tam," Throttle told her, as she pouted over the results, "miniature golf is _not_ your forte."

"I figured that out on the first hole," she said crisply. "Now can we please play a _real_ game? This isn't what I picture when someone talks about balls rolling around."

"Uh..."

Throttle glanced over at Vector, who was cradled in Vinnie's fringed arms. "What _do_ you picture?" he asked slowly.

Tamerin stopped pouting and flashed him a sly--strange--grin. "You mean, what do I picture in regards to happy little balls, rolling around like a spirited clump?"

Throttle blinked. "Um...yes?"

Instead of replying, Tamerin continued to grin that strange grin, as if she was enjoying her own private joke, and turned around to face the night sky. Swaying, she stretched her hands up and splayed her fingers, like she was trying to touch the stars above...and then she started singing.

"I know you love me...I wanna wad you up into my life..."

Throttle blinked again, then turned to the others. "I think this sissy game broke my mate's mind. Can we do something else now?"

"Charley and I are hitting the nearest hot dog stand," Vinnie said firmly.

Ashlin suddenly tugged her hood off, and the ninja assassin vanished and was instantly replaced by the angelic Martian. "I've never been to an amusement park before," she said, cuddling her cheek against Modo's arm and batting her eyelashes at him. "Can we go ride a few rides?"

When she turned up the charm like that, the burly mouse melted like several hundred pounds of butter. They ran off, while Tamerin continued to sway and sing to the cosmos. "Let's roll up to be...a single star in the sky..."

Michio yawned loudly. "Now that I've mastered this dumb game, can we go hit the arcade?"

Tamerin's singing came to a halt. She spun around, eyes flashing, and seized her adopted son's hand. Throttle watched them race away, feeling left out again...but he wasn't anxious to join them. Arcade games were one area where his mate could grind him into the ground. "I could use a few dozen dogs myself," he commented casually.

"Too bad," Vinnie said crisply. "Married couples only."

"I _am_ married," Throttle retorted, exasperated. "Technically."

Vinnie scratched his head a moment. "Inter-species couples only?"

"I sure hope you're joking, Vincent."

"Well, you're still not coming. I need some alone time with my Charley-girl."

"Just the three of you?" Throttle added dryly.

"Good point," the white-furred mouse stated--and promptly passed his drowsy-looking son to him before snagging his arm around his wife's waist and walking away.

Sighing, Throttle propped sleepy Vector on his shoulder and left the golf course. "Next year," he told the little mouse, "I think we'll just go trick-or-treating."


	6. Through The Eyes Of A Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a war as seen through the eyes of a ten-year-old boy. Takes place thirty years before FMBH begins. Rated T for violence and death.

Jayce didn't understand a whole lot about adults and the things they did, but there was a couple of things that he knew for sure. One was that when it came to exploring and mapping out the toxic surface of Malteria, his dad was the very best. Another thing he knew--something they started teaching you practically from babyhood--was that their species' entire existence had been formed around secrecy.

The original colonists that settled here had made sure their city couldn't be found or reached by anyone on the surface. The scouts only took trips topside when they really needed to, and when they teleported to other planets, they made sure no one ever saw them. But things were different now. Their creators, who would have killed them if they ever found them, were long dead, and the scouts were free to explore all they wanted. His big sister was a scout who specialized in off world trips, and whenever she came back she always brought new resources or technology--and loads of new stories, and she would spend hours describing everything she had seen and heard while Jayce listened with rapt attention.

She was also a technical whiz and supposedly could fix almost anything. Their mom was a hard worker too, but her job wasn't very interesting. She had joined ranks at the military base years ago but was still just a private, which was good enough for her, she said. She'd rather stay at home with her family and help with the community gardens.

Everybody helped with the gardens, which was another thing they taught you about as soon as you were old enough to understand, along with how hard it was to grow plants down here. Most plant life needs sunlight to grow, so they had to plant things that could grow under the solar lights they had built, or choose plants that could live without any light at all--and they had to be safe to eat and nutritious, too. It was all really complicated, but everybody said that his parents were talented botanists, so he guessed that meant they were good at growing things.

His mom also stayed close to home because Jayce was still young and 'needed someone to keep an eye on him,' or so she was always saying...which was really embarrassing. "I'm too big to need a babysitter," he would often gripe.

His mom would just laugh and hug him, which was even more embarrassing--especially when they were in public. "Don't be in a big hurry to grow up," she told him once. "You're only young once, and when you're my age you'll miss being a little kid with no responsibility."

Which had prompted his sister to crack, "You mean you can really remember that far back? Wow."

He had laughed; Mom had thrown something at her. His sister Tamerin was fun like that.

Another thing Jayce heard adults talk about was how people on other planets did a lot more than just grow up, like Imeerans did. Tamerin described to him how different races she had seen kept on aging, until they were as wrinkled as an old piece of fruit, and walked stooped over and leaned on sticks so they wouldn't fall over. Jayce would have thought she was exaggerating, but other scouts said the same thing.

It all sounded pretty strange to him. Dad was almost four hundred years old, but he looked younger than Mom, and neighbors who didn't know any better thought Mom and Tamerin were sisters. Everybody said that when Jayce finished growing up, he would look just like Dad. Which Jayce thought was a silly thing to say; they had the same skin and eye color, but his hair was way whiter than his dad's. Adults sure loved to exaggerate...but the thought that he would be like his dad when he grew up always made him feel happy, deep inside.

His dad was so smart Jayce thought he should be teaching at school--he always had an answer for everything. Dad was the one who explained to him all about how they gathered soil from the ocean floor, and how they had developed methods to grow some of the sea plants that were edible, and how their top local food source was fish...and how that if it was really, truly necessary, they could live in complete and total underwater isolation.

"If we can, why don't we?" Jayce asked once.

His dad had smiled and replied, "We basically did, and for the longest time. We've only really started to explore the surface and other planets in the last few decades before you were born. There's no reason for us to hide anymore, and looking at how other species live helps us to grow and to learn. Remember, we were originally created with perfection in mind, but we're far from perfect. We're not very good at developing our own technology or inventing our own ideas. Seeing life on other planets is kind of like playing music: some people can play completely by ear, but others need to be guided by sheet music. We're the kind of race that needs sheet music."

Another big reason for off world exploration was recreation, which was something everybody said that a species living like theirs needed. Jayce wholeheartedly agreed; life without games and toys would be horribly boring, and he was all for finding and bringing back more. When Tamerin wasn't off scouting, she practically lived in the game parlor, and she always took him with when he asked.

Generally someone Tamerin's age was out on her own by now, but she was happy to stay with her family for a little while longer...mostly because of Jayce, since she was the one who usually watched him when Dad was off on the surface and Mom was over at the base. Jayce wondered if she'd stick around even after he was grown up, if Mom and Dad suddenly decided to have a third kid. Oh, wait, that would probably mean he would be promoted from the babysat to the babysitter. Swell.

When Jayce was ten years old, the lives of everyone in his family--especially his own life--were basic and simple. Until the day all that changed.

Jayce woke up bright and early one morning and all but bounced out of bed. Today was his day off school and he wasn't going to waste it sleeping. He tugged on clean clothes and ran to the kitchen, where his mom was sipping a cup of coffee and reading a data pad at the table...while his dad was busy packing the special case he always took with him on trips to the surface. "Can I go, too?" Jayce asked eagerly.

Mom looked up from her coffee and over at Dad, her eyes full of question; Dad answered with a silent look of his own. Parents communicated like that all the time. Jayce didn't fully understand it, but he'd heard his whole life how couples were linked together by their minds. They couldn't hear each other's thoughts exactly, but they could feel each other's emotions, even when they were far apart, and without touching. When they were together, a lot of quick, meaningful looks were exchanged--looks that meant nothing to anyone else but were as good as an entire conversation to them.

When his mother went back to her reading, a satisfied look on her face, Jayce knew that Dad had wordlessly assured her that the trip was safe, and that Mom consented to him tagging along. Jayce gave an excited little hop and ran to grab his surface-tramping boots. Chuckling, Dad finished packing his case and slung the strap over his shoulder.

"Are you going to eat before you go?" asked Mom as she got up from the table.

"Nah," said Jayce, too impatient to get going to stop for something silly, like food. "I'll eat when I get back."

Most Imeerans could go for days without any food, and the worst they usually felt was tired. Delaying or occasionally skipping a meal was no big deal...but Jayce could tell by the pert frown she gave that his mom was about to go into 'mommy-mode' and come up with a reason why he should eat anyway, and it probably had something to do with him being a kid.

"You're still a growing boy," she said predictably, as she put her cup aside to be washed later. "At least take something to tide you over until you get back, and you better have a nice big lunch later to make up for skipping breakfast."

Jayce rolled his eyes, but he scurried over to the cabinet where they kept the snacks and grabbed a handful, making sure to only pick the ones stored in protective wrappers so they wouldn't become contaminated in the outside air. Not that he would be taking his helmet off to eat any of it...but that was mommy-mode logic for you.

He put the snacks into a special case of his own, and both Mom and Tamerin followed them to the door to see them off. Mom looked relaxed, but Tamerin had a pensive look on her face, and she suddenly wrapped her arms around herself, like she was cold. "Something doesn't feel right," she murmured.

Jayce paused in the hallway outside his family's apartment and looked at his sister for a moment. All Imeerans were born with empathic abilities, but Jayce's had never been very strong. It didn't bother him; everybody had their areas of strength, and this wasn't one of his. But he had noticed that, every once in a while, a small handful of individuals could sense something even if they weren't touching anything or anyone, like the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Tamerin was one of those individuals.

But Dad smiled and put a hand on his son's shoulder, nudging him into motion again. "It's just a standard sample collecting mission," he said. "We'll be back before you know it."

Jayce felt calm and safe beside his father, but as he looked back, Tamerin still looked uneasy. She kept her eyes on the two of them as the distance between her and them grew, even as their mother slid her arm around her and steered her back into the apartment. As the front door closed, Mom gave Tamerin's shoulder a squeeze and whispered something in her ear--reassuring her that they'd be back soon, Jayce bet.

Unworried, he followed Dad out of the residential area and through the heart of the city, then out through one of the tubes that extended over the ocean floor and into one of the outer guard stations. Jayce thought they were kind of a silly precaution. No one knew that a bio-engineered race was hiding out on this planet, let alone at the bottom of the ocean, and yet the stations were designed to be a last defense, just in case someone actually found one of the lifts hidden in the sand on the surface. If their security was ever breached, the tubes could be sealed off so no one could get into the city itself. Like that would ever happen.

His dad met up with the usual team he explored with, and Jayce hurried to join them as he put on one of the suits that would protect them from the planet's toxic atmosphere. As hardy as their bodies were, their skin would still be eaten away by the ravenous bacteria that lived in the air if it was exposed for too long.

Once everyone was suited up, Jayce put his helmet on and waited impatiently while the adults did their usual last minute routine. They checked to make sure they had all the cases and containers they needed, then checked to make sure all their equipment was functioning properly. It took ages, but finally his dad slipped his helmet on, then gave the signal to head up.

The main lift was large, but not counting Jayce there were ten of them heading up, so they split into two groups and went up separately. Jayce and his dad went up in the second group, and as soon as the lift doors swished open, Jayce squinted through his helmet's visor at the orange haze and swirling sands in front of him. He didn't like the color of the sky, or the harshness of the winds, or how it felt like the air itself would chew clear through his suit if he held still for too long...but he trotted after his dad as they all headed across the uneven plain to the dunes in the distance, ignoring the dizzy feeling he felt at first.

The dizziness always faded after a few minutes, and Jayce felt relaxed and comfortable as he kept pace beside his father and looked around. The sky looked awful as usual, but Jayce actually thought it was kind of reassuring that way. The toxic gases farther up in the atmosphere were so thick, they threw off any readings a passing spacecraft might try to take, and the dangerous gravitational pull made sure they didn't fly too close. Nobody would ever suspect anyone was living down here, happy and thriving--and nobody would ever find out. Not unless somebody told while they were off planet, or did something stupid and brought someone from another world back here.

Ships crashed here once in a while, but so far, no one had ever survived. Incidents like these were always handled quietly, respectfully. Scouts would head up and salvage what they could from the wreckage, then put any remains they found to rest. And then life went on like nothing had ever happened. Jayce doubted that would ever change.

As the group crested one of the sandy hills, Dad wordlessly indicated for them to stop and take the first samples. No one spoke as they opened their cases and took out jars and containers and started gathering bits of sand, scraps of plants and other things. Taking samples and running tests on the surface was done almost constantly, and the teams always moved from one area to another and then back again, because the way the winds pushed the toxins and poisons in the air around, the same area could be so thick you could barely see through it one day and virtually toxin-free the next. Jayce wasn't sure why they needed so many samples, but Dad and his group were always coming up and gathering fresh ones, heading out to new areas sometimes and then back to old areas they had already tested repeatedly at other times. From the way they acted, Jayce knew all the adults thought it was really important.

Jayce thought it was all pretty boring, and after a few minutes he started to wander, popping open his small case and sifting through the sand for his own 'samples,'; shiny rocks, bits of cracked bone, old chunks of space debris. He made sure to stay quiet while he roamed, though. Everybody stayed quiet--less chance of attracting attention that way. But Jayce could tell that none of those huge lizards were around today. Otherwise the ground would be vibrating under his boots.

Those things were unpredictable, so several scientific groups made it their business to study them. And what they had learned over the years...was that those things were unpredictable. The ever-changing winds, which were impossible to follow or judge a pattern for, influenced where the scattered beasts that lived on the surface scuttled to. And the giant lizards tracked them in turn, moving from their enormous burrows at any time, day or night. Wherever their food source went, they followed. There was a smaller lizard species that mostly lived on fish, but they were quick as lightning and only came above ground to feed, so almost no one got to see them.

Barring the handful of bones he was pocketing, there was something Jayce had never seen, and that was death. It was one of those things he only heard about, like sunlight that burned yellow, and skies that were clear, and ground that was covered in healthy plants and flowers instead of the gnarled, poison-filled stuff that grew on Malteria. These were all things that sounded so mysterious and seemed so unreachable, they didn't seem real to him.

Death was the same way. No one knew for sure, but doctors and scientists who studied their genetic makeup said that it looked like their species was designed to never die on its own, of either age or other natural causes. Most of the original twenty that settled here, almost a thousand years ago, were still alive. Some of them had gotten sick when they took the parts from the ship they crashed here with and used them to build the first pod at the bottom of the ocean, but they eventually got better. So it actually wasn't until a few years later that a few had gotten killed while exploring the surface. They weren't able to run as fast as they thought and wound up being lizard chow.

That was when they first found out that when two Imeerans were a couple, like his parents, and one of them died, the other one would probably end up dying, too. Jayce didn't really understand why; it was one of those grownup things. The very first couple was still alive, though, and the oldest Imeerans in the colony. When Jayce was a little younger, he listened to his teachers talk about these thousand-year-old beings with a sense of awe. Anyone who had been alive that long and had done so much had to be extra-special, somehow. And then they came to speak at his school one day and he saw that they looked, talked, and acted just like everybody else. It was kind of a letdown, actually.

As he continued gathering things at random, Jayce thought back to that day. The two of them had talked about a lot of things with his class, like the history of their race, how far they had come and how much they had learned, and they also mentioned what was probably the biggest mystery Malteria had to offer. A lot of adults called them the planet's 'ghosts.' No one knew who or what caused it, or could prove that anything was really there at all, but sometimes, funny things happened. Weird readings showed up in the soil. Strange equipment appeared and disappeared. Tracks no one could identify marked the ground.

Some adults didn't think anything of it, while others would swear that there was something up here, something that either couldn't or didn't want to be seen. Some even swore that they felt something sometimes, moving. Lurking. They never saw anything, but they were convinced a presence lived somewhere on this planet. The thought kind of gave Jayce the creeps.

Shivering suddenly, he closed his case and scurried back to his dad. Everyone was fanned out around the area, taking scans, comparing notes and gathering new samples. The jars and containers in Dad's case were almost full already, and he was punching something into the data pad in his hand. He paused as Jayce scampered up beside him and rested a comforting hand on his son's shoulder; Jayce smiled and put his arms around his dad, resting his head against his side for a moment.

There was still a lot of work left, so after giving his shoulder a pat, his dad went back to inputting numbers into his data pad. Jayce hung close to him for a few minutes, but before long he started to feel restless again, and he wandered down a narrow trail that led away from the area were the others were and down into a wide valley between the dunes.

It was quieter here, sheltered from the bulk of the ever-blowing winds. Jayce poked around for a while, but there wasn't anything interesting here--until he spotted a small, scaly creature with clawed feet and a hard shell, nosing around in the sand ahead of him.

All of the wildlife on Malteria was unpredictable. Scientists had studied the different species for years, and none of them could consistently be considered docile. Members of the same species could be skittish, friendly, or ready to chew your face off. So when the idea of adopting pets had formed, years ago, the scouts had wisely decided to import animals from other planets. There weren't any birds here, soaring through the poisonous fumes overhead, so birds of all kinds were the most popular pet.

Jayce kept his distance, but he followed along behind the scuttling creature, almost laughing at the funny way it snorted and snuffled as it poked its fat nose into the dirt and sand, looking for food. It suddenly gave a loud snort and darted away, disappearing between a clump of boulders.

The sand was loose and shifting here, and as Jayce turned around to head back to the others, his foot slipped. He stumbled, dropped his case and landed on his hip, and he slid down a small slope before he came to a stop. The ground was grittier down here, colored almost an ashy gray, and it crunched beneath his boots as he got to his feet. There were lots of flat areas filled with finely-ground rock and pebbles, some of them pulverized almost to a fine powder that mixed in with the rest of the sand. Pretty much everything turned to a fine powder after it was crushed under the feet of those reptilian behemoths.

The thought made Jayce hold his breath. He had wandered pretty far from the others; there weren't any of those things around here, were they? He kept still and listened for a moment, but he didn't hear anything. Anything at all, he slowly realized, an unsettled feeling coming over him. Except for the whisper of wind, he didn't hear a thing.

He didn't have sharp empathic senses like his sister, but he didn't need them to figure out that something wasn't right. The sudden sense that he was in danger crept over his small body, making his skin tingle beneath his suit and the hairs on his arms stand on end.

And then he heard something. It was like a sigh, or a long, slow hiss. A raspy exhale of breath. Something was breathing--something behind him.

The feeling that he was in danger growing worse by the second, Jayce slowly turned around, almost cringing as a pebble crunched underneath his toe. At first he didn't see anything...but then his wide eyes focused on a dark spot on the ground. It wasn't like the rest of the coarse, rocky ground. It was so dark it was almost black, and it was smooth, like liquid.

And it was moving. As Jayce continued to stare, the liquidy patch started to draw together, like it was drying up. Only it wasn't. It was turning solid, pulling up into a sphere shape. And the sphere shape quickly grew into another shape, a shape that grew tall, like a person, with arms and legs colored blue-black. Eyes like yellow slits gleamed from a strangely shaped head.

Jayce whirled and broke into a mad run. "Daddy!"

He didn't mean to say that--let alone yell it at the top of his lungs. Yelling on the surface was a no-no, and he had stopped saying 'daddy' when he was eight. But right now he was so scared he didn't care. He just needed to reach his dad--then everything would be all right. His dad knew everything. He would tell him what this weird thing was. Dad would keep him safe.

Jayce's feet slipped on the uneven sand, and he all but crawled his way back up the slope. When he reached even ground he took off running again, heading straight for the research group. His dad broke away from the others as Jayce neared, dropping his equipment as he reached for his son. Jayce wrapped his arms around his waist and panted as he clung to him.

"What happened?" asked Dad, his alarm plain.

Shaking, Jayce turned his head without letting go. "Back there..."

He didn't have to bother explaining what he had seen and where. It was already here. They were already here. There was at least a dozen of them. Some walked, their bare limbs glistening like moisture, others slithered across the ground in that sphere form, alternately flattening out like a puddle and rising up again, like they kept liquefying and solidifying.

Dad's arms tightened around him, while a confused murmur ran through the rest of the group. Some drew back; others raised their scanners curiously. No one seemed to know just what to do. None of them had ever seen other intelligent life on this planet before. And no one except the off world scouts had interacted with other races. Jayce could tell that everyone was at a loss--some even looked scared, and Jayce never saw adults look scared--but then a lone figure stepped forward.

He had brown skin, and gray hair that was darker than Dad's. His name was Madson, and Dad worked closely with him on a lot of his projects. Jayce didn't know him that well--no more than any other adult that wasn't his parent--but Dad liked him, and he was always nice when Jayce went over to play with his kids after school.

Madson's posture was stiff, and he was clearly nervous, but he continued to step closer to one of the mysterious beings. Everyone, including Jayce, watched with their breath held. A million questions seemed to jump into Jayce's mind all at once. Were these beings as intelligent as them? Would Madson be able to talk to one? How did they get here? Did they crash here? Had they been here all along? Did they want something?

Madson was probably wondering a lot of the same things, but he never got to ask. Just when he was only a handful of feet or so from a blue-black being that stood a little closer than the others, it abruptly whipped out its hand. After that things happened so fast, when Jayce looked back later he could only remember things all in a blur.

First there was a blinding white flash, and then Madson was lying on the ground, clutching his side and bleeding. Jayce had never seen blood before--not like this. Kids got paper-cuts at school, and sometimes adults scraped their knuckles while working in the gardens, or nicked themselves slicing food for dinner. It was never anything serious. Nothing like this.

Madson's blood was flowing red-black from under where he lay, seeping across and soaking into the bumps and ridges in the sandy ground, like someone had left the faucet running in the kitchen for too long and the sink overflowed. Jayce stared, numb with shock, waiting for the dark flow to stop, but it just kept coming.

And suddenly everyone was moving around all at once. Members of Dad's group--his close friends--were falling to the ground, cries of pain and fear filling the air. More flashes. More oozing and slithering across the ground as those nameless creatures fell in and out of solid form like rubber balls bouncing.

Jayce saw more blood. More flashes. More bodies falling to the ground. Some rolled and got up, others stayed still. And then a grip tightened on his slender arms and he was being turned around--pushed away from that nightmarish sight. He stumbled as he was shoved, and Dad's voice was crying out at him, but it barely sounded like him. He sounded scared--so very scared--as he yelled one word over and over again.

"Run. Run!"

Jayce's legs felt as numb as his mind, but he forced them into motion. He pumped his hands and feet wildly, his boots pounding noisily on the ground. Sand and rock shifted under his feet and he almost fell a couple of times, but he regained his balance again and kept going. Behind him, shouts kept ringing out, and even facing the opposite direction he could still see those white flashes. It reminded him of the way Tamerin once described lightning to him.

Jayce kept on running, but his short legs couldn't keep up this kind of speed, and before long his muscles were burning, his lungs constricting as they heaved. He tried not to, but his body started to slow down at its own accord--and then the ground suddenly slipped out from under him.

With a startled cry, he landed on his back and slid down a steep incline, jagged rocks and debris scratching his skin through his suit. He came to a stop when the ground leveled out again, and for a moment he lay still, staring up at the sickly green-black of the sky as he panted for breath. He had no idea when he started, but he suddenly noticed that he was crying, the tears running hot trails down his face. Just what were those things and why did they want to hurt them?

A footstep crunched somewhere above him, and Jayce bolted up and got ready to run again as icy fear shot through his heart, but a figure was already sliding down the incline. He let out a terrified scream as arms locked around him and lifted him up, turning him around--and his father's face came into focus as he pulled his son to his chest, holding him close.

Jayce wrapped his arms around his neck as he sobbed in relief. As Dad tightened his hold and took off running, for a moment Jayce's fear evaporated. He felt so comforted, so safe as he rested his head, clunky in its helmet, on his dad's shoulder, the fingers he had locked around his neck knotting in his hair. Wait...hair?

Gasping, Jayce lifted his head and stared. Dad's helmet was gone, his shoulder-length hair whipping behind him freely as he ran. Jayce was horrified and tried to tell him to stop and go back for it, but then he noticed something. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it. Feel it humming through his small hands as they clung to his dad's shoulders, the jarring way his feet hit the ground, the raspy way he breathed. Dad was hurt--and afraid.

It made Jayce terrified all over again, and he looked behind them to see if they were still being chased. He didn't see anything, but he suddenly heard something. That horrible squishing, gushing sound those creatures made as they oozed across the ground. And then he heard that long, slow hiss of their breathing.

That was when Dad came skidding to a halt. He clung to his son, panting and trembling slightly, while Jayce twisted his head around to see what was wrong. What he saw made his heart stop.

They had come to the edge of a small cliff. He couldn't tell how many feet down it was, but if they tried to jump, they'd probably break their legs. And then they'd be dead for sure--lying broken and helpless to stop their attackers from finding them. Jayce hiccuped on a sob; Dad's arms tightened around him, clutching him protectively to his strong chest.

Jayce heard the hiss again, followed by that white flash, and the cracking sound it made. And then they were falling.

Jayce opened his mouth to scream, but an instant later an impact rattled his bones and cut the sound off in his throat. His arms pulled tight over his head and felt like they about yanked out of their sockets. He opened his eyes--he didn't remember closing them--and looked to see the world at a dizzying angle, the sky looming overhead and the ground below. His feet dangled underneath him; he quickly looked up and saw that his dad had him by both arms as he lay on his stomach, half-hanging over the edge.

Jayce tightened his grip, expecting his dad to pull him up...but nothing happened. From somewhere nearby came that hissing sound again.

Terror squeezed at Jayce's throat. They had to get out of here--they had to run. "Pull me up," he cried, his voice coming out small and shrill.

Dad's grip loosened; Jayce's heart almost stopped. "Dad," he squeaked.

And then his father did the strangest thing. He smiled softly. There was pain etched across his face, but his eyes were full of affection. "It's a long drop," he said, his voice hoarse and thick, like his throat was filling with fluid. "But it'll be okay. It's sloped, so you'll slide. You'll be okay."

Jayce felt his eyes widen in horror as he realized what his dad was saying. "Don't let go," he begged. "Don't let me go!"

It wasn't the thought of falling that terrified him. He didn't know why or how, but he somehow knew that if he left his dad now...they'd never be together again.

"Don't let go, Daddy," he pleaded again, his sobs uncontrollable now. "Please, pull me up."

Dad's expression was soft, his eyes half-closed. Like he was losing consciousness. "Follow the ravine until you get to a slope of brown rock. When you climb it, you'll be right across from the lift. You can make it if you run...I know you can. And...look after your mother and sister for me."

All of a sudden his grip went slack, and Jayce dropped with a frightened yelp. He hit the cliff-side and slid for several yards, kicking up clouds of dust that filled the air around him and made it hard to see. Through the gray-brown haze fogging up his helmet, he saw another flash.

The ground finally evened out again and he stopped sliding, his tired body feeling battered and bruised. The pain was ignored as Jayce rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself up on his hands and looked overhead.

Through the lingering wisps of dust still clouding the air, he could see his dad, his head and arms still dangling over the edge. His gray hair framed his face, but he wasn't smiling anymore. His expression was strangely blank, his eyes vacant and glassy. There was a dark stain running down the cliff-side, following the trail Jayce had just cut in the soil. Wind suddenly kicked up, playing with the ends of Dad's hair.

Dad's head needed to be covered, Jayce suddenly thought crazily. He wanted to claw his way back up, take of his helmet and put it on him, even if it wouldn't fit. Dad needed to stop breathing in the toxins.

No. As he looked, he realized that Dad wasn't breathing anymore. And with a realization that twisted his heart and filled him with more pain than he ever thought he could feel, he knew his father would never take another breath.

A shadow suddenly slanted across the ledge; something was standing over Dad. Something blue with yellow eyes, and it made that horrible hiss. And then it was gone, and Dad was moving, but he wasn't moving by himself. With a scraping sound, he was dragged away from the edge, inch by inch, until Jayce couldn't see him anymore. The last thing Jayce saw was his fingers, slipping back from the edge, almost like he was waving farewell.

The ravine filled with that same silence from before--that skin-tingling silence that had set all this off. Jayce felt the pain inside him get tucked away somewhere as a new thought consumed him: he was next. He didn't know how he knew, but every fiber of his being was telling him so. Part of him wanted to stay here anyway, to go wherever Dad was going, even if that place was death...but that wasn't what Dad wanted. Dad told him to run, and so he turned and ran with all his might.

There was movement above him, but he ignored it, along with the pain in his body and lungs. He just kept running and running, following the bottom of the ravine like his dad told him to, until he saw a group of boulders and crumbling rock up against the inner wall. The rocky ledge was a dark brown, and Jayce hastily scrambled up on the boulders and crawled his way up the slanting ground.

When he reached the top, he found himself in familiar territory. The area was flat, the sand skirting up from the ground in clumps as the winds gusted by. And in the distance was the distinct capsule shape of the lift. Jayce was filled with so much relief he started crying again, and his tired legs only managed a stumbling trot as he hurried forward.

That was when he heard a breath--a low, gasping breath. It made his heart seize up and he tried to dive forward, to somehow manage a burst of breakneck speed - but the being was on him, grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him up and clear onto its shoulder. Jayce let out a scream and started kicking, but he was held tight. Frustrated and angry, he swung out his fist--and struck something solid, something that clunked.

He looked in surprise--and found himself looking at a helmet. Through the visor he recognized the tired, sweaty face of Madson. Jayce was so relieved he wanted to curl up and start crying again.

Quicker than he could ever hope to be, Madson made a beeline for the lift and all but fell inside. He put Jayce down clumsily and punched a fist against the keypad. As the lift door slid quietly shut, Jayce found himself looking at the blood still gushing from Madson's side, then out at the desert. Everything had gone strangely quiet.

As the doors locked and the lift sunk into the ocean, Jayce didn't ask if anyone else was coming. He already knew the answer.

When the two of them finally got inside, things became a jumbled mess. Madson tried to explain what had happened, but nobody wanted to believe him. More and more people--most of them military--came rushing into the guard station. Everyone seemed to be shouting. Jayce just wanted to go home, but everyone wanted to know what he had seen. Feeling like he was in a daze, he told everything he could remember about today. When he got to the part about seeing his dad being dragged, lifeless, away from the cliff, he broke down.

Someone volunteered to bring him home after that, and Tamerin came running to meet him when they were still in the city. Jayce could tell by the look on her face that she had already been told. He was glad; he didn't ever want to talk about what happened to his dad again. Not as long as he lived.

He fell into his sister's arms and cried, and she picked him up and held him like he was a small child again. She held him and cried right along with him. Jayce couldn't remember the last time he saw her cry, but that day she wept just as hard as he did.

Tamerin carried him home, where Mom was waiting for them. Only she didn't look like Mom. Even when her face was stern, there was always warmth and love in her eyes. She was the kind of mom who liked to play as much as her children, to laugh and have fun. But now...now it was like a light had turned off inside her.

Jayce felt a stab of fear; Mom wasn't going to be like those couples he'd heard about in school, was she? She couldn't die and leave them. She just couldn't.

Tamerin continued to hold him as she took a shaky breath. "Mom..."

Whatever she had been about to say, she never got to finish. Rigid as a stone, Mom gave her head a tiny shake as her amber eyes flooded with tears. "No," she whispered.

"Mom, Dad's--"

"No!"

She yelled it so loud it made both of them flinch. Her sharp cry sounded like both an order and a plea, and she slapped both of her hands over her ears. "Don't say it," she cried, eyes squeezed shut. "If I don't hear it and I don't see it, then it won't be true!"

And she ran past them and out of their apartment. Jayce thought she would come back...but she didn't.

The next few days went by in a haze. Life in the entire colony felt like it had been turned upside-down. People were afraid to go to the surface, and the ones who tried, even if they went armed, were attacked just like the others. Jayce didn't remember eating or sleeping much during this time. Tamerin stayed at his side every moment, and every time he burst into tears--it just kept happening, even if he forced himself not to think about anything--she would cradle him tightly until they stopped.

It was a few days later when she went out for a little while, and when she came back, she shakily told him that a scouting team had managed to go to the surface and come back safely. They managed to find that first group. She didn't go into detail, but Jayce knew what it had looked like. A massacre. After their work was finished, those creatures just left the bodies in the sand. The scout team had brought back everyone they could find.

"Did they find Dad?" Jayce asked, his voice coming out a faint, crackly whisper. His throat was dry and raw from crying so much.

Tamerin nodded, tears welling in her blue eyes. "They're holding a funeral tomorrow."

Jayce had never seen a funeral before. He had never wanted to. But he wanted to see Dad one last time, so the next morning Tamerin led him by the hand into the city, where a special area had been set aside. They didn't bury their dead, since the bodies would only be churned up by the winds, the bones dug up and dragged off by wild animals. No one wanted to release them into the ocean either, since they would be eaten by fish, so they burned the bodies instead, in a carefully contained fire.

Mom didn't come that day. She didn't watch as each of the bodies were placed on a ceremonial platform and then ignited. Jayce caught one last glimpse of Dad's face before his eyes flooded with tears, and then he couldn't see anymore. He clung to his sister and sobbed into her shirt, even as he told himself that he needed to be stronger now. Dad had left it up to him to look after her, and Mom, too.

But Mom had stopped being a mom. She was only interested in being a soldier now, in fighting this war that no one understood--not where those things had come from or why this had started. It didn't matter now. The attacks weren't stopping and they had to fight if they wanted to survive.

And Jayce was determined to fight. He was small now, but he was going to grow strong someday. And maybe he couldn't look after Mom, but he'd do everything he could to take care of Tamerin. Sure, she was older and bigger, and plenty strong herself, but he didn't care. It was what Dad wanted. He would figure out the things she couldn't do for herself, the things she couldn't protect herself from. He'd be there for her no matter what.

And he would learn how to fight. He'd make himself strong, and he would fight for the ones they had lost, and for the ones who needed to be kept safe. Those things weren't going to get away with this--he'd make sure of it. And as the last of the flames faded away, a silent vow resonated in his heart. Whatever he had to do to help end this, to stop any more lives from being lost, he would do it.

It would be his last breath or theirs. Whichever came first.


	7. A Clash Of Tastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the many foundations of true love is self-sacrifice...but there are some lines that just shouldn't be crossed. Takes place a few months after FMBH. Rated G.

Life was great. Everyone was happy and settled comfortably on Mars, and the last few months had been nothing but fun. So it took Throttle completely by surprise when he went home one afternoon and found his sensitive nostrils being assaulted by one of the foulest odors ever invented the second he stepped through the door.

Grimacing, he pressed a hand over his nose and quickly tracked the smell to the kitchen. Not that he _wanted_ to go any closer to the smell, but he had to in order to get rid of it. "What in the name of all that's good and holy is going on around here?"

Tamerin was at the kitchen table, placidly slicing a pile of vegetables with a long knife. She looked up from her work and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Making pizzas. Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick."

Well, that explained it. With a groan, Throttle slumped against the counter. "Dare I even ask what put this insane idea in your head?" he asked wearily.

His mate frowned at him, clearly perplexed by his reaction. "If you must know, I went with Charley on a trip to Earth a few days ago, and she treated me to dinner at a pizza parlor before we teleported back. I'd actually never had pizza before," she went on, as she lifted the fresh tomato she was slicing and sniffed it. "I thought it was really good, but this elderly gentleman I spoke to while we were there told me that no parlor today serves pizza as good as the kind he had as a kid."

She set the tomato down and slid a pile of neatly chopped onions into her hand with the side of the knife and dumped them into a nearby bowl. "It's apparently all in the freshness," she went on, as she set the knife aside and moved over to the counter, where rows of bowls already loaded with ingredients were laid out. "Even places that bake them fresh still only use pre-packaged ingredients, like canned tomato paste, frozen dough, pre-sliced cheese..."

Tamerin was busy looking over the bowls and didn't catch the way Throttle cringed at the word 'cheese.'

"So, I thought I'd give the old fashioned method a try and only use deli-fresh ingredients. Whole tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, peppers, I sliced the pepperoni myself, and--"

"Grated the mozzarella cheese," Throttle finished, cringing again.

"Of course. You can't make pizza without mozzarella."

"Well, you're going to have to learn how, because if there's one rule here on Mars, it's that you never bring cheese anywhere near a mouse."

His mate finally turned away from her prep-work and gave him a funny look. "Why's that?"

"Why?" Throttle echoed dryly. "Because it stinks. Your nose is almost as good as mine--doesn't the smell bother you?"

Tamerin frowned, looking puzzled, and turned back to the counter. Throttle took a step back and covered his nose again with a grimace as she picked up a partially grated block of mozzarella and sniffed it. "I always thought mozzarella had a nice, mild smell," she commented.

"Not to me it doesn't," Throttle grumbled, voice muffled.

She set the offensive food item down again and studied him for a moment. "I suppose I could use a substitute," she said thoughtfully...though he was pretty sure there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Maybe colby-jack. The texture is similar to mozzarella, so it should melt about the same way. It would probably have a unique flavor, too--very rich and exotic."

Throttle made a sputtering sound. "What are you, a connoisseur of cheese all of a sudden?"

Tamerin let out a giggle--a suspiciously playful one. "No, I just love cheese."

Groaning and slapping a hand over his heart like he'd just been stabbed, Throttle wobbled and leaned a hand on the counter for support. "You...love... _cheese_?" he said weakly. "I thought your favorite food was noodles."

Tamerin giggled again. "I love all kinds of food. And all kinds of cheese. Swiss, provolone, muenster..."

Throttle groaned again and lowered his head to the counter top with a whimper. "Please stop," he begged.

"And I adore the taste and smell of cheddar," she finished. He couldn't see her, what with his face pressed to the counter, but he could distinctly feel a trickle of amusement through their bond. She found his aversion to cheese amusing? That was definitely an open invitation for a good spanking.

"Cheddar looks like earwax," he said flatly.

With a sigh, Tamerin stepped closer to him and ran a soothing hand over his back. "Am I grossing my poor baby out?" she cooed.

Throttle wrinkled his nose and shied away. "Don't touch me," he warned, as he straightened up again.

Tamerin blinked innocently. "Why not?"

"Because your hands stink like cheese, that's why not."

Her expression still innocent, she looked down at her own palms for a moment--and then she brightened, like she had just thought of something. "I just realized, I haven't properly welcomed you home yet."

Throttle eyed her warily, wondering what she was up to now...but then it hit him. Even when he was gone for only a short time, she almost always gave him a hug when he got back.

"Uh, I don't think so," he said, as he hastily backed out of the kitchen.

With another playful giggle, Tamerin darted after him, and Throttle practically had to run to keep out of reach of her outstretched fingers. "Keep those cheese-tainted digits away from me," he ordered, as he retreated into the living room.

"Awww, but I wuvs you so much. You don't want to hurt my feelings with this rejection, do you?"

Throttle's eyes darted around for a moment before he vaulted to the safety of the opposite side of the couch. "You don't want me to pass out from disgust, do you?" he countered.

Tamerin appeared to think this over for a minute--and then she gave a hop, propelling herself up onto the couch cushions, where she bounced again and launched herself clear over the back of the couch. She reached out and wrapped both arms around his neck as she came back down, making Throttle lose his balance and fall backwards as her weight hit him. A moment later he found himself lying on his back on the rug, with his grinning mate curled up comfortably on his chest. "I think I ought to be punished," she noted, as she cuddled her head under his chin.

Throttle's nose twitched. "Or maybe you should just take a shower," he suggested dryly.

Not only did her hands smell like cheese, her hair kind of smelled like mushrooms. Curdled milk with a dash of fungus. Sexy.

The playful twinkle returning to her eyes, Tamerin lifted her head and smirked. "My sense of smell isn't as sharp as yours, so...you should probably come help scrub me up, in case I miss something."

"Mmm...tempting."

Very tempting, in fact. At least until a second later, when a small off-white figure suddenly came bursting through the front door and scampered through the room. With little Ako cradled in his arms, Michio came to a stop and stared blankly down at the two of them. Scrunching up his face, he hastily covered Ako's eyes. "Don't look," he warned, "they're being weird again."

He fled to his room, and Throttle sat up, carefully keeping his hands away from Tamerin's as he nudged her away with a disappointed sigh. Her expression finally turning serious, she smiled at him. "I'll go get rid of the, uh, offending object," she promised.

"Good. Then we can work on real dinner together. Compared to cheese, even more noodles sound good."

Tamerin looked thoughtful. "You know, I've always been a fan of elbow macaroni smothered in melted cheddar..."

Groaning, Throttle pushed his specs up and rubbed his eyes. "I mean it, now--no mac-and-cheese. Ever."

Tamerin smiled again as she got up. "Okay, hot shot, more hot dogs it is."

"If this is leading up to a crack about cheese dogs, I'm throwing you over my knee."

Laughing, she headed back to the kitchen. "Not in front of the kids. And I was going to suggest chili dogs."

"That's more like it."


End file.
